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LORD LONDON 










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LORD 

LONDON 

A Tale or Achievement 



KEBLE HOWARD 
Author o/ ‘'The Smiths of Surhitou ” 
&tc 




NEW YOPK 
MC bkiDE, NAST(S'CO. 

1915 




Copyright, 1913, by 
McBride, Nast & Co. 


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©CI.A358563 


AUTHOR’S NOTE 


Why none of the many writers who also know 
him personally has never before sat down to en- 
deavor to give the public a true picture of one 
of the most fascinating and most misrepresented 
men of our time, I cannot understand. Perhaps 
they waited to ask permission, and were, quite 
naturally, refused. I made no such mistake as 
that. Perhaps they were afraid that he would 
turn and rend them — in his mighty machines — 
for their presumption. Well, he may rend me if 
he likes ; yet not even “ Lord London ” himself 
can deprive me of the pleasure that I have had 
in weaving around the main facts of his career, 
known to all the world, the poor embroideries 
of my own imagination. 


Merstham, June 3, 1913. 


K. H. 


I 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

I Hannibal and Hasdrubal .... i 

II Hannibal in Harness 15 

HI Sheila 41 

IV Hannibal Demands a Helpmate . . 58 

V The Reward of the Good Samaritan 79 

VI Hannibal’s Busy Day loi 

VII “You AND I” 123 

VIII The Great Idea 143 

IX Success 177 

X The Use of Victory 187 

XI Hannibal and His Staff .... 206 
XII Clement Jeakes 217 

XIII The “ Little Daily ” 234 

XIV The Boy in Hannibal 259 

XV How Sheila Became Her Ladyship . 274 

XVI “ To Meet Sir Hannibal Quain ” . 299 

XVII “ Shares in the ‘ Little Daily ’ ” . . 310 

XVHI Dinner for Two in Downing Street . 318 
XIX Round the Corner Into Adams Street 346 


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LORD LONDON 


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LORD LONDON 


I 


HANNIBAL AND HASDRUBAL 

HE boy is not the father of the man. The 
boy is the man. For example: 



The Quain boys were playing cricket. 
Hannibal, the eldest, was bowling. You must 
picture him as a boy of fifteen, fair-haired, with 
a rather straight fringe hanging slant-wise across 
his forehead; of average height, well-built, lithe 
and quick. It remains to be added that his 
eyes were blue, and his lips rather full, more 
or less in the shape of the much-envied Cupid’s 
bow. 

Hasdrubal was batting. A year younger than 
Hannibal, he was larger in every way, sturdier, 
and, as a natural consequence, slower. The other 
five Quain boys were distributed about the lawn 
— the lawn of their father’s picturesque, com- 
fortable, but by no means splendid residence in 
St. John’s Wood. Socrates was in the deep field, 
having received strict injunctions to see that the 
ball did not crash through the cucumber frame. 


2 


LORD LONDON 


Virgil, a tall boy of eleven or twelve, was at point. 
Galahad was the long-stop. Anthony was mak- 
ing himself generally useful, first on one side of 
the pitch, then on the other, and now back again. 
Ajax, the youngest of the brothers, was not yet old 
enough to be pressed into the service of Hanni- 
bal and Hasdrubal. He sat sunning himself on 
the lowest flight of the steps that led from the 
dining-room to the garden. 

It will be useful to observe the methods of Han- 
nibal and Hasdrubal. Hannibal was a very astute 
bowler, not to say cunning. You never knew 
where to have him. He would, for example, 
take a long swift run, and deliver an unexpectedly 
slow ball with a tremendous break from leg; or 
he would walk up to the wicket in the most lei- 
surely manner imaginable, and then, with a sudden 
swing of his lithe arm, send down something be- 
tween a rifle bullet and a cannon-ball. Occa- 
sionally, very occasionally, he would try his skill 
with an “ under-hand that was only his fun, just 
to show that he could do that sort of thing as well 
as anybody else if he liked. 

Hasdrubal was the only member of the Quain 
family who was anything like a match for Hanni- 
bal. This was not so much because he came next 
in age, as that Hasdrubal was as solid in character 
as in build. When Hannibal was batting, his 
main thought was to make runs, and make them 
he did. Hasdrubal, on the other hand, went in 


HANNIBAL AND HASDRUBAL 3 

with the determination to stay in, whether he made 
runs or not. He gradually developed a dogged 
obstinacy of style that sometimes delighted Han- 
nibal, who hated too easy a victory, and at other 
times made him very impatient. For Hannibal, 
as we shall see during the progress of this history, 
had as many moods as there are ripples on a 
lake in a summer breeze. That is why he baffled, 
and still baffles, many worthy folk, who like to 
make up their minds about a man and have done 
with it. They might just as well make up their 
minds, once and for all, about the Irish Channel. 

“ Play! ” cried Hannibal. 

“ Half a sec,” replied Hasdrubal. 

“What’s up?” 

“ You’re bowling round the wicket.” 

“ I know that.” 

“ Well, you’ve been bowling over it all this 
time.” 

“ That’s no reason why I shouldn’t change if I 
want to.” 

“ No, but you ought to give me warning.” 

“ All right. I’m going to bowl round the 
wicket. Play ! ” 

The ball whizzed down the pitch, but Hasdrubal 
stepped aside and allowed it to knock his middle 
stump clean out of the ground. 

“Out!” announced Hannibal. “You’re in 
now, Soc.” 

“ I’m not out,” protested Hasdrubal. “ I 


4 


LORD LONDON 


didn’t try to play that ball because you hadn’t 
given me fresh middle.” 

“ Oh, come on, then.” 

Fresh middle was duly given, and Hasdrubal, 
with a face of iron, settled down to defend him- 
self against this new mode of attack. There 
were more ways than one, however, of getting rid 
of Hasdrubal. If you could not bowl him, or 
get him caught, or stumped, you could generally 
induce him to open his young shoulders and knock 
the ball over the wall into the next garden. This 
involved a double penalty: the batsman was out, 
and he also had to recover the ball. 

In the case of the garden to the right, which 
belonged to an untenanted house, it was easy 
enough to recover the ball. But in the case of the 
garden to the left, the matter was very different. 
That house was occupied by a lady who kept an 
extremely select seminary for girls between the 
ages of twelve and sixteen. It is hardly necessary 
to explain that the Quain boys were a sharp thorn 
in the side of Miss Crundall. Did she take her 
young charges for a walk up to the Heath and 
back, going or coming they were pretty sure to 
meet the seductive Hannibal or the massive Has- 
drubal. If two or three of the young ladies re- 
tired to the secluded garden for a modest and 
ladylike game of croquet, before very long that 
wretched cricket-ball would make its appearance, 
causing them to flee for their lives. Miss Crun- 


HANNIBAL AND HASDRUBAL 5 


dall had written many sharp little notes on the 
subject, and sent them to Mr. Quain by one of 
her maids. 

Mr. Quain, who, like his eldest son, was also a 
person of many moods, had various ways of deal- 
ing with these missives. If he happened to be in 
one mood, he would send for Hannibal and Has- 
drubal, and forbid them ever to play cricket in the 
garden again on pain of exquisite torture and a 
lingering death. If he were in another mood, he 
would take a hand with the ball himself, and 
promise sixpence to the first boy who hit it into 
Miss Crundall’s garden. (Hannibal invariably 
won the sixpences.) Or, in yet a third and the 
most ordinary mood, Mr. Quain would chuck the 
envelope into the fire and light his pipe with the 
note. 

Miss Crundall had next tried the effect of send- 
ing sharp little notes to Mrs. Quain. Mrs. Quain 
was a lady of broad views, especially regarding 
her seven sons. While she had no desire that any 
of Miss Crundall’s pupils should be stretched 
senseless by a blow on the head from a cricket ball, 
she did not really think that the possibilities of this 
catastrophe should be allowed to have a restricting 
influence on the pastimes and exercises of her sons. 
Like a good mother, she wanted, not only the 
back garden of the little house in St. John’s Wood 
for them to play in, but the whole wide world. 
Napoleon, she reflected, had made the world his 


6 


LORD LONDON 


playground; then why should not Hannibal Quain 
do the same? She placed no limitations to the 
possibilities of her eldest son’s career, and, where 
Hannibal went, the others would surely follow. 
She sent polite replies, therefore, to Miss Crun- 
dall’s notes, but was careful to give no guarantee 
that the cricket would be stopped or that the 
ball would remain outside Miss Crundall’s garden. 

Under these circumstances. Miss Crundall had 
at last felt herself justified in instructing her pu- 
pils to retain possession of the ball should it again 
intrude itself among them, and, under no condi- 
tions whatever, to yield it up. Hence the forma- 
tion of the rule among the Quain boys that any- 
body knocking the ball into Miss Crundall’s gar- 
den should, in the first place, conclude his innings, 
and, in the second place, fetch the ball. 

No batsman could have resisted the very tempt- 
ing “ long-hop ” now sent down by Hannibal. 
Hannibal himself might have resisted it, but then 
Hannibal had attributes that were superhuman. 
Hasdrubal, being merely human, stepped forward 
and brought his innings to a conclusion in the man- 
ner described. 

“ Out ! ” cried the other young Quains in chorus. 
“ And get the ball,” added Hannibal, quietly. 

Hasdrubal did not protest. He had the great 
virtue of knowing when to give way. In dealing 
with Hannibal, it was generally better to give 


HANNIBAL AND HASDRUBAL 7 


way quickly and gracefully. He threw down the 
bat, therefore, clambered on to a box kept there 
for that especial purpose, and peeped over the 
wall. 

“ Coast clear? ” asked Hannibal in his quick 
way. 

Hasdrubal nodded, scrambled to the top of the 
wall, and lowered himself stealthily into the gar- 
den of the dread Miss Crundall. 

But Hasdrubal was wrong. The coast was not 
clear. It is true that most of Miss Crundall’s pu- 
pils were taking advantage of the pure and bracing 
air of Hampstead Heath, but, as it happened. 
Miss Sheila Gillfoyle, having been excused the 
walk on account of a headache, was sitting with 
her book under the cedar. 

“What do you want?” she asked, rather 
sharply, without getting up. 

“ Oh, beg pardon,” said Hasdrubal. “ I was 
just looking for our ball. Did you see it come 
over? ” 

“ Yes,” said Sheila, gazing at him very steadily. 

She was a dark little girl, about thirteen years 
of age, with long legs, large dark eyes, and a 
slight and very pretty Irish accent. Dark eyes 
and an Irish accent, of course, had no effect at all 
upon Hasdrubal. Had he been a year older, he 
might have taken some interest in the personality 
of Sheila, though it is doubtful. He was thinking 


8 


LORD LONDON 


solely of the cricket-ball, and he felt pretty sure 
that this very quiet but none the less contemptible 
little girl, had secured and hidden it. 

“ Where did it go? ” he continued, truculently. 

“ Just there,” said Sheila, pointing to a spot 
some five yards away from her feet. 

“ Did you pick it up? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then hand it over.” 

“ No,” said Sheila, shaking her dark little head. 

“Rot! You must!” 

“ That’s where you’re wrong, rude boy. I 
mustn’t and I shan’t.” 

“ Why mustn’t you ? ” 

“ Because Miss Crundall told us to keep it if 
it came over.” 

“Oh, she did, did she? I didn’t know Ma 
Crundall kept a school for thieves.” 

“ Go away,” said Sheila, returning composedly 
to her book. 

“ There’ll be a row over this,” threatened Has- 
drubal. 

“ Yes, and there’ll be a row if you’re caught in 
this garden.” 

“ You needn’t think I’m afraid.” 

“ Go away,” repeated Sheila; “ I don’t like you. 
You’re the rude Quain boy.” 

“ Cat! ” muttered Hasdrubal. He waited a 
few moments longer to see whether this stinging 
repartee would have any effect, at the same time 


HANNIBAL AND HASDRUBAL 9 


looking vaguely about him on the remote chance 
of discovering the ball. As Sheila remained en- 
tirely unmoved, however, he was at last compelled 
to return to his own garden empty-handed. 

“ Got it?” demanded Hannibal. 

“ No.” 

“Why not?” 

“ That beastly dark kid’s there. Said Ma 
Crundall had told them to nick the ball if it came 
over. She’s nicked it, and wouldn’t give it up.” 

“ I expect you went the wrong way to work,” 
said Hannibal. 

“ No, I didn’t.” 

“ What did you say? ” 

“ Oh, I told her it was our ball, and that there’d 
be a jolly row if she didn’t hand it over, and that 
she was a cat.” 

“I thought so,” observed Hannibal; “you’ve 
no tact.” 

“Tact! What’s tact?” 

“ It’s a thing that has to be born in you.” 

“ Was it born in you? ” 

“ Yes. If you’d got it, you could do anything 
you liked with people.” 

“ All right, let’s see some of it. I’ll bet you 
you don’t get that ball out of that dark kid.” 

“What’ll you bet?” 

“ Bet you a penny.” 

“ It’s worth twopence. The odds are against 
me. You ought to bet twopence to my penny.” 


lO 


LORD LONDON 


“ All right,” agreed Hasdrubal. “ If you get 
it, I give you twopence on Saturday. If you don’t 
get it, you give me a penny.” 

“ I make one condition,” said Hannibal. “ You 
mustn’t interfere in any way or even look over 
the wall.” 

“ I don’t waut to look over the wall.” 

“ No, but you might change your mind. Give 
me the word of the Quains.” (This was a sacred 
oath among the boys, instituted by Hannibal. He 
had explained that any member of the band who 
broke it would henceforth forfeit the rights of 
brotherhood. Needless to say, the oath was al- 
ways respected. ) 

“ Word of the Quains,” growled Hasdrubal, 
plumping himself down on the grass. 

Hannibal mounted the box, and stood there for 
some little time gazing down into the next garden. 
Presently he began to whistle an ancient Irish 
melody — the favorite melody of his father, who 
was given to playing it on the flute. Hannibal 
whistled the tune all through twice, and was be- 
ginning it for the third time when the boughs of 
the cedar parted, and a small face, surrounded by 
dark hair, peeped through. 

Hannibal, very politely, raised his cap. As he 
did so, he smiled. The small face was instantly 
withdrawn, and the boughs closed. Hannibal 
went on with the melody. The boughs of the 
cedar parted a second time, again the little face 


HANNIBAL AND HASDRUBAL ii 


peeped through, and then Sheila said : “ So you’re 
the boy who whistles my tune ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Hannibal, gently hoisting himself 
to the top of the wall. 

“ Where did you learn it? ” asked Sheila. 

“ My father taught it to me,” replied Hannibal, 
throwing one leg over the wall. 

“ Is your father Irish? ” 

“ Yes,” said Hannibal, throwing the other leg 
over the wall. 

“ Then I suppose you’re Irish? ” 

“ Yes, I am,” agreed Hannibal, quietly drop- 
ping into Miss Crundall’s garden. 

Sheila disappeared behind the branches of the 
cedar. Hannibal, advancing slowly, at last gained 
the opening recently occupied by Hasdrubal. 

“What are you doing in our garden?” asked 
Sheila. 

“ I came to talk to you,” said Hannibal. 

“ But you mustn’t, you know.” 

“ Why? Don’t you like it? ” 

“Yes. /like it.” 

“ Then I may,” said Hannibal. 

“ Miss Crundall wouldn’t like it.” 

“ Miss Crundall isn’t here.” 

“ All the same, it’s her garden.” 

“ No,” explained Hannibal. “ It’s your gar- 
den.” 

“ It belongs to Miss Crundall,” corrected Sheila. 
“ Don’t you understand? She owns it.” 


12 


LORD LONDON 


“ Owning a garden doesn’t make It yours. The 
only way to really own a garden is to be the most 
beautiful thing in it. Is Miss Crundall more beau- 
tiful than that rose, for instance? ” 

“ No,” said Sheila, with a thoughtful shake of 
her little dark head. 

“ Then she can’t own the garden.” 

“ I suppose the rose owns it.” 

“ Yes,” said Hannibal, “ by night.” 

“ Who owns it by day? ” asked Sheila, very In- 
tent upon a corner of her book. 

“ When you are In it, you do.” 

“ That’s nonsense,” said Sheila. “ Nobody 
could be more beautiful than a rose.” 

“ Nobody except you,” said Hannibal. 

There was a little silence. At last, Sheila 
looked up. “ Why,” she asked, “ are you so nice, 
and that brother of yours so horrid? ” 

“ He’s not really horrid,” said Hannibal. “ It’s 
only his manner.” (You will observe that he was 
careful to say nothing this time about tact.) 

“ Well, It’s a horrid manner. That’s why I 
wouldn’t let him have the ball.” 

“ What ball? ” 

“ Why, your cricket-ball, you know.” 

“ Oh, yes. I’d forgotten all about that.” 

“ Didn’t you come over for it?” 

“No. I told you why I came over — to see 
you.” 


HANNIBAL AND HASDRUBAL 13 


“ Then don’t you want the hall? ” 

“ Not if you’d care to keep it,” replied Han- 
nibal. He spoke very earnestly, very simply, but 
his heart, for all that, was in his mouth. 

“ I don’t want it,” said Sheila. “ It’s no use 
to me, horrid hard thing.” She pulled it from 
under her cushion, and held it out to him. Han- 
nibal advanced, and took it gravely. There wasn’t 
a trace of triumph about him. That would have 
spoiled everything, and he liked to follow up vic- 
tory by victory. 

“ Thanks, awfully,” he said. “ It’s jolly de- 
cent of you not to keep it.” 

“I didn’t want to keep it — not really,” said 
Sheila. “ I should have felt awfully mean spoil- 
ing your game. All the same,” she added shyly, 
“ I shouldn’t like any of the other girls to know 
that I let you have it back.” 

” I won’t tell them,” promised Hannibal. 
“ We’ll make it our secret.” 

“ Yes, that’ll be lovely! ” 

“ Of course,” Hannibal warned her, “ it might 
come over again sometime.” 

“ I suppose it might,” agreed Sheila. 

“ If it does, may I fetch it? ” 

” Yes, if the other girls are not here.” 

“ But suppose they are here ? ” 

“ Then I’ll get it, someihow or other, and throw 
it back to you without any of them seeing.” 

“ And if they’re not here,” continued Hannibal, 


14 LORD LONDON 

his blue eyes meeting her dark ones, “ then, I sup- 
pose — ” 

“ You might as well fetch it,” said Sheila. 

“ You’ve been a beastly long time,” Hasdrubal 
complained. “ I knew you wouldn’t make that 
kid give it up.” 

“ But I did,” replied Hannibal, taking the ball 
from his pocket and shying it across to Hasdrubal. 

“ Jingo ! ” said Hasdrubal. Then he added, in 
a matter-of-fact tone, “ I’ll pay you that twopence 
on Saturday.” 

“ That’s all right. I’ll let you off.” 

“ Straight?” 

“ Straight.” 

“You’re a brick, Han! I’m your man for 
always I Word of the Quains I ” 

Who can doubt that Hannibal had genius? 


II 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 

O NE of the commonest mistakes made by 
the public in estimating the character of 
the famous Lord London is caused by the 
simple fact that he has accumulated a vast fortune. 
They take it for granted that any man who starts 
with nothing and amasses a million of money be- 
fore the age of forty must be a person of purely 
commercial instincts. Those who know Lord 
London intimately — and to know him at all is to 
know him intimately — recognize that, but for a 
sudden and a rather tragic happening, he might 
have become a professional musician, an actor, a 
dramatist, a theatrical manager, a war-correspond- 
ent, or even a poet. 

In the boy Hannibal, there were all these pos- 
sibilities. He began to write as soon as he could 
hold a pen, and the back volumes of his school 
magazines bear witness to his ability for doing 
himself what he has since set thousands of others 
doing. 

At the age of seventeen, he felt the necessity of 
exploiting his talents in a greater world than the 
public school which he attended as a day-scholar. 
He had a deep affection, an affection shared by 
15 


i6 


LORD LONDON 


most boys of that day — and, for all one knows to 
the contrary, by boys of the present day as well — 
for “ The Boy’s Own Paper.” He used to study 
it, unconsciously, from the editorial point of view. 
When a new serial was announced, he knew in an 
instant whether it would prove popular with his 
school-fellows, or whether they would vote it dull. 
He knew that the “ How-to-Make ” series ap- 
pealed to quite a large number of boys, although, 
personally, he would not have read one of those 
articles all through for worlds. He understood 
the value of the “ Answers to Correspondents,” 
especially when, in reply to a letter written by him- 
self to the Editor, the magic initials “ H. Q.” 
suddenly leapt at him one morning from those 
wonderful pages. The articles on “ Health and 
Training ” he devoured eagerly, having all the pas- 
sion of the healthy boy for a body in perfect train- 
ing. 

It was quite natural, therefore, when he realized 
that he must get out of the play-ground into the 
world, and when this impelling instinct was backed 
by a hint or two from his father that any addition 
to the family income would be welcome, that his 
thoughts should turn to journalism, and, in par- 
ticular, to a journal for boys. 

Thinking things over one night while Hasdrubal 
snored in the bed in the opposite corner, Hannibal 
wondered whether “ The Boy’s Own Paper ” ap- 
pealed to every boy in the kingdom. If it did. 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 


17 


how was it one didn’t see it in the hands of tele- 
graph boys, messenger boys, butcher boys, bakers’ 
boys, and the rest of the tribe who swarmed about 
the streets of London? He speedily convinced 
himself that there must be some reason why these 
boys did not all buy and devour “ The Boy’s Own 
Paper.” And then he began to perceive that 
“ The Boy’s Own Paper ” catered only for boys 
of his own class. The stories of Talbot Baines 
Reed, for example, always dealt with life at a pub- 
lic school. What did these other thousands of 
boys know of life at a public school? Then, 
again, the “ How-to-Make ” series could have but 
faint interest for a boy who could not possibly 
hope to purchase one quarter of the tools and ma- 
terials mentioned in those articles. 

A great idea came to Hannibal that night — the 
first of his great ideas. He would contrive, by 
hook or by crook, to get an interview with some 
rich man whose business it was to publish weekly 
papers, and he would convince this man that there 
was a very large fortune to be made by anybody 
who would bring out a journal on the lines of 
“ The Boy’s Own Paper,” but adapted to the ev- 
ery-day thoughts and tastes and needs and hopes 
and doubts and difficulties of the boy in the street. 
His brain hummed. He was so excited that he 
had to get out of bed, and go across to the window. 
It was quite clear to him that such a paper would 
meet with a ready response. The type of serial 


LORD LONDON 


story that could fascinate the errand-boy was vivid 
in his mind. He could see the title and the illus- 
trations. He would tell them how to turn their 
pocket-money to the best account, how to teach 
themselves things which they had not learned at 
school, how to make money and get on in the 
world. His paper — he thought of it already as 
his paper — would come like a weekly blaze of 
light into these submerged lives. He wanted to 
dress at once, and go downstairs, and get pens 
and paper, and draft out the model of his first 
number. He could not bear the thought of going 
to bed again, and deliberately allowing this stu- 
pendous scheme to slip from his mind. 

He actually did this. Just as the child Handel 
was discovered in his little nightshirt playing the 
organ, so the young Quain, at four o’clock on a 
winter’s morning, stole downstairs in his shirt and 
trousers and prepared his first “ dummy.” There, 
at half-past six, the general servant found him, the 
dining-room table strewn with sheets of paper torn 
from an exercise-book. 

“ Lor ! Master Hannibal, whatever are you do- 
ing here at this time in the morning? ” 

“ Nothing, Lizzie. It’s a secret. You mustn’t 
tell anybody.” 

“ As if I should. But you do look cold! You 
must be pretty nigh froze 1 ” 

“ Yes, I am a bit cold. I’ll help you light the 
fire, and then we’ll make some tea.” 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 


19 


We have all seen pictures of the child Handel 
at the organ, and pictures of young George Ste- 
phenson watching the lid of the kettle bobbing up 
and down. An equally good picture might be 
made, one imagines, of the great Lord London 
helping the maid-of-all-work to light the dining- 
room fire at half-past six on a winter’s morning, 
while the table is strewn with sheets of paper that, 
for those who had eyes to see, bore eloquent testi- 
mony to the arrival of a new genius in journalism. 

Sir Albert Curtain sat at the head of a long 
table in the editorial room of “ The London 
Weekly Album.” The table was littered with orig- 
inal drawings by famous artists, wood-engravings, 
proofs of blocks, manuscripts of stories by cele- 
brated novelists, long galley-slips just up from the 
composing-room, pens, pencils, scribbling paper, 
paper-weights, rulers, scissors, sealing-wax, note- 
paper, envelopes, opened letters, unopened letters, 
and the other delightful riffraff so dear to the heart 
of the born journalist. Gathered about him were 
the chiefs of the various departments — the pub- 
lisher, the foreman printer, the art editor, and, 
most weighty of all, the advertising manager. A 
special number was under consideration — one of 
those huge special numbers of the “ London 
Weekly Album,” which was afterwards to be 
found in clubs, in hotels, in the billiard-rooms of 
the wealthy, in the drawing-rooms of the less 


20 


LORD LONDON 


wealthy, in hospitals, in camps, on steamers, and 
in log huts thousands of miles away. 

A messenger entered with a card which he 
handed to the Chief. “ By appointment, sir,” 
said the messenger. 

The great Sir Albert frowned as he looked at 
the card. “ Mr. Hannibal Quain,” he muttered, 
hastily. “ Who on earth is Mr. Hannibal 
Quain? ” 

“ I think,” said Sir Albert’s obsequious private 
secretary, ” that that is the gentleman who wrote 
to you with reference to an idea for a new paper. 
The wording of the letter attracted you, sir, if 
you remember.” 

“ Oh, yes. I thought we asked him to forward 
the idea? ” 

” Yes, sir, we did, but Mr. Quain replied that 
his idea could only be properly explained in a per- 
sonal interview.” 

Sir Albert smiled, and those about him smiled 
also. Mr. Quain was evidently unaware that 
“ The London Weekly Album,” like the Bank of 
England, was above suspicion. 

” Tell him to wait. Truth,” he said. 

Hannibal was quite happy in the waiting-room. 
Indeed, he was in a veritable delirium of happi- 
ness. The smell of the printer’s ink was in his 
nostrils, and the roar of the great machines was 
in his ears. The building actually shook with the 
thunder of the machines. The room in which he 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 


21 


waited was dark enough, and small enough, and 
untidy enough, but he felt like one on the thresh- 
old of Paradise. 

For the first time in his life, he found himself 
in a real newspaper-office. This was the place 
where the famous “ London Weekly Album ” was 
actually written, and illustrated, and edited, and 
printed, and bound, and sent forth to the world. 
There were bound volumes of the “ London 
Weekly Album ” on the shelves in front of him. 
There were all sorts of mysterious packages 
tucked away on other shelves. There were some 
framed drawings on the walls, real drawings sent 
by men whose names were known all over the 
world. 

The door stood open, and people kept passing 
to and fro. Once two men met in the passage, 
and one addressed the other as “ Stanley, old boy.” 
This must be the great Stanley — the famous war- 
correspondent who had been through fifteen cam- 
paigns, and whose picture, cut from the pages of 
“ The Boy’s Own Paper,” was nailed to the wall 
above Hannibal’s bed. Hannibal ventured to 
take a peep through the crack of the door. Yes, 
that was Stanley, older than he expected, shorter 
than he expected, rather less distinguished-look- 
ing than he appeared in his picture, but, for 
all that, the great man himself. Oh, day of 
days ! 

And he was to wait and see the great Sir Albert 
Curtain ! He was to talk to him, as one man to 


22 


LORD LONDON 


another, and lay before him the scheme for his 
new paper. It had been rather a wrench having 
those cards printed — one-and-nine pence for fifty 
— but it was worth while. If you wanted to im- 
press people you had to spend money. There was 
no doubt about it. Sir Albert must have been 
impressed by the card or he would not have told 
him to wait. Well, the gate of a great Career 
stood open; if he did not pass through that gate 
and join the throng, hurrying and jostling and 
scrambling along the narrow crowded way to Suc- 
cess, it would be his own fault. 

An hour passed. Two hours passed. Hanni- 
bal saw by his Waterbury watch that the time was 
half-past two. Did this great man never take 
luncheon ? Perhaps not. Perhaps they were too 
busy. He imagined Sir Albert directing, and ex- 
horting, and criticizing, and rejecting, and inspir- 
ing like one possessed of a thousand sources of 
energy. Lunch ? Ridiculous ! 

The office had grown strangely quiet. If Sir 
Albert himself was not at lunch, it would seem 
that the rest of the staff was lunching. Hannibal 
peeped through the open door of the waiting- 
room into the passage; not a soul in sight. He 
stole a little way down the passage; still he met 
nobody. A little further, and he came to a door 
upon which was painted 


SIR ALBERT CURTAIN 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 


23 


The door was ajar. No sound of voices from 
the room — not even the scratch of a pen. In 
spite of himself, impelled by some over-mastering 
power which he has never understood, Hannibal 
gently pushed open the door and entered the 
sanctum of sanctums. 

At one end of the great table, amid all the fas- 
cinating litter, stood the remains of a very simple 
cold luncheon. In a large arm-chair by the fire, 
his feet comfortably resting on a club-fender, lay 
Sir Albert, fast asleep. Fascinated by the sight, 
Hannibal stood just inside the door, gazing at the 
man who had it in his power to pass him through 
the gateway that led to fame and fortune. Asleep ! 
Fast asleep ! And so the Proprietor and Editor 
of this world-famous periodical could actually 
sleep ! The roar of his machines disturbed him 
not, nor the knowledge that he had an appointment 
with Mr. Hannibal Quain. 

Hannibal decided that something must be done 
and done quickly. Picking a scrap of paper from 
the floor, he rolled it into a tiny pellet, and flicked 
it neatly at the nose of the great man. The pellet 
hit the mark, and Sir Albert, after various pre- 
liminary gruntlings, awoke. Fortunately for 
Hannibal, he did not know the cause of his awak- 
ening. All he knew was that a strange youth, with 
a rather pale face, and fair straight hair brushed 
slant-wise across his forehead, stood in the door- 
way staring at him. 


24 


LORD LONDON 


“Who the devil are you?” asked Sir Albert 
sleepily. 

“ Hannibal Quain, sir.” 

“ D’you want to see me? ” 

“ Yes, sir. I have an appointment with you. 
You told me to wait.” 

“ Quain ? Quain ? Oh, yes, I know — the sus- 
picious gentleman.” 

“ Suspicious, sir? ” 

“ The gentleman who would not commit the 
idea for his new paper to writing. Or are you 
his son? ” 

“ No, sir. There is only one Hannibal 
Quain.” 

Sir Albert laughed. It was a good thing for 
Hannibal that he had made the great Sir Albert 
laugh. Most of the people in the office of “ The 
London Weekly Album ” were far too terrified 
of Sir Albert even to dream of attempting to make 
him laugh, and, if one of them did ever get so far 
as to venture the attempt, the result was so ghastly 
that Sir Albert generally set him down in his mind 
as a hopeless fool who could never be entrusted 
with any responsible position. 

“ Oh, so there’s no other Hannibal Quain? ” 

“ No, sir. I’m afraid you may think my name 
rather eccentric, but my father gave us all names 
like that. He says that if he can’t send us out 
into the world with great fortunes at our backs, 
we shall at least start with great names. Would 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 


25 


you care to hear the names of my brothers? ” 

“ Certainly ! ” replied Sir Albert, laughing 
again. “ Sit down.” 

Hannibal, before accepting the invitation to sit 
down, closed the door behind him. This at once 
placed him on terms of intimacy with Sir Albert, 
and lent greater importance to the business to be 
transacted. 

“ My second brother,” he said, “ is called Has- 
drubal; the third, Socrates; the fourth, Virgil; 
the fifth, Galahad; the sixth, Anthony; and the 
seventh, Ajax.” 

“ Is that the lot? ” 

“Yes, sir. That’s all — at present.” 

“ So you are the eldest of seven, Mr. Quain? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ I hope your father is a rich man? ” 

“ No, sir. We’re not very well off.” 

“ Is your father a journalist? ” 

“No, sir — a barrister.” 

“ And what put it into your head that you 
wanted to be a journalist? ” 

“ I don’t quite know, sir. I’ve always been 
fond of writing, and I was the editor of my school 
magazine, and then the idea for this paper came 
into my head, and I thought you would be the most 
likely person to consider it, and so I wrote you 
that letter.” 

“ Well, would you care to entrust me with the 
idea, Mr. Quain? ” 


26 


LORD LONDON 


“ Of course, sir. It wasn’t that I distrusted 
you, but I knew that I could explain it better to 
you personally, if I was lucky enough to get the 
chance to see you, than just in writing. There are 
so many things. . . .” 

“ I know. Well, Mr. Quain, go ahead.” 

“ It’s a new paper for boys. Of course, I know 
there’s the ‘ B. O. P.,’ but it seems to me that 
that only appeals to a certain class of boy. My 
paper would be intended for all the boys that one 
sees about in the streets — errand-boys, messen- 
ger-boys, telegraph-boys, and so on. In fact, all 
the boys who go to the Board School.” 

“ Yes,” said Sir Albert. (Hannibal’s heart 
jumped.) “ But boys who go to Board Schools, 
Mr. Quain, don’t buy papers.” Hannibal’s heart 
sank. 

“ I know they don’t at present, sir, but that’s 
just it! They would — I know they would, if 
there was a paper to suit them! The only thing 
is that nobody seems to understand them, or to 
care to take the trouble to understand them. I 
do understand them — I know I do, and my paper 
would be so fascinating to them that they wouldn’t 
be able to help buying it ! 

“ For example; look at those serial stories in the 
‘ B. O. P.’ ; they are all about Public Schools. 
These boys don’t know anything about Public 
Schools, and so why should they be expected to 
take an interest in a story about life at a Public 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 


27 


School? I should give them stories about fight- 
ing, and about travel, and about poor boys who 
went to sea and got wrecked, and discovered won- 
derful treasures on undiscovered islands, and came 
home very wealthy, and were knighted, and mar- 
ried peeresses, and went into Parliament, and be- 
came Prime Minister! That’s what they’d like! 

“ And then I should have articles telling them 
how to get on in the world, even if they didn’t go 
abroad — how to train themselves for positions 
of importance, how to make money in their spare 
hours, how to double it, how to treble it, how to 
get rich! And then there’d be historical stories! 
Those chaps know hardly anything of the won- 
derful history of England! They can’t get it out 
of history-books — all the history-books I’ve ever 
come across leave out all the things that they ought 
to put in, and stop just where they ought to begin. 
Look at the ‘ South Sea Bubble ’ — what a story 
might be made out of that! Look at the building 
of St. Paul’s Cathedral — no history-book ever 
tells us how that was done! Look at Lord Nel- 
son — not one boy in a hundred has really any 
idea of what Lord Nelson was even like ! 

“ And then there’d be ‘ Answers to Corre- 
spondents.’ If they had any particular trouble, 
or there was anything they particularly wanted to 
know about, they’d just write up to the paper 
and we should tell them! Then we should have 
plenty of colored pictures ! That’s what boys like 


28 


LORD LONDON 


— colored pictures ! Why, all the pictures might 
be colored! We could knock the dear old ‘ B. 
O. P.’ into a cocked hat! ” 

Hannibal paused for breath. He found him- 
self, somehow or other, in the middle of the room, 
with his arms extended, and his long fringe very 
much over his left eye. He supposed that he had 
been making a fool of himself, but, anyway, he 
had told the great Sir Albert about his paper. 
That was better than keeping It bottled up inside 
himself. 

Sir Albert was still smiling, but he was also 
regarding his youthful visitor with real interest. 
He knew something of the enthusiasm of youth, 
but this fair-hail ed lad had more of it than any- 
body who had ever brought him an idea for a 
new paper. 

“ That’s all very Interesting, Mr. Quain, but 
now I must damp your ardor a little. I am a 
practical man, and I know something of the cost 
of running an illustrated paper. You say that 
boys like colored pictures, and I have no doubt 
that they do. They are not alone in that respect. 
Everybody likes colored pictures — if they’re good 
pictures, well colored, and well printed. You may 
think it very stupid of us, for instance, not to 
print the whole of the ‘ London Weekly Album ’ 
in colors. I don’t mind telling you, Mr. Quain, 
that I would do it to-morrow if I could afford 
it, but colored printing, at this stage of the game. 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 


29 


is ruinously expensive. If I brought out a paper 
for boys printed throughout in colors, or with even 
a portion of it printed in colors, I should very soon 
be in the Bankruptcy Court. 

“ Now take the question of your serial stories. 
I like your ideas for serial stories, but you do not 
realize, I am afraid, that these stories would have 
to be very well written. They would have to be 
written by men of experience, and men of expe- 
rience are not prepared to work for nothing. 
Take, again, your ‘ Answers to Correspondents.’ 
An excellent idea, Mr. Quain, but you would re- 
quire quite a large staff of people to deal with that 
department alone. Now, the question is, how 
ai'e all these expenses to be met? What would 
the circulation of your paper be? Have you 
thought of that? ” 

“ No, sir,” poor Hannibal was obliged to con- 
fess, “ I didn’t actually think of any figure, but I 
am sure we should sell an awful lot.” 

Sir Albert laughed. “You are, are you? 
Well, I don’t say we shouldn’t, but one thing that 
you must learn about journalism, Mr. Quain, one 
thing that you must get firmly fixed inside your 
head, if you ever want to do anything as a journal- 
ist, is this: no paper can be made to pay on cir- 
culation alone. The only way in which a paper 
can be run at a profit is to have a big revenue be- 
hind it from advertisements. You may imagine 
that people who have anything to sell are only 


30 


LORD LONDON 


too glad to advertise in any paper that has a large 
circulation, but that is not the case. If you think 
the matter over for one second, you will easily 
see the point of view of the advertiser. He asks 
himself, not how many copies of a paper are sold, 
but what sort of people buy the paper? Is the 
paper bought by people who have money to 
spend? Now, your errand-boys have no money 
to spend; therefore, it is no use for the adver- 
tiser to tell them what he has to sell; therefore, 
we should not get much revenue from advertise- 
ments, and we should make a loss of our venture. 
Is that quite clear? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Hannibal. It was quite clear 
— only too clear. 

Sir Albert, in five minutes, had shattered his 
beautiful castle. It was Hannibal’s first setback, 
and the first setback is always the hardest to 
bear. Success in journalism was not so easy as 
he had imagined. In point of fact, it came to him 
as a horrible shock that he knew nothing whatever 
about the subject. He could not be expected to 
realize, at the tender age of seventeen, that he was 
learning with exceptional rapidity. 

“ Don’t look so glum, Mr. Quain,” Sir Albert 
continued. “ There may be something in your 
idea, but I warn you that the paper will have to 
be run on very cheap lines. Have you any notion 
what your editorial expenses would amount to 
weekly? ” 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 


31 

Hannibal, of course, hadn’t a notion. But, 
come what might, he mustn’t confess that. 

“ Oh,” he said quickly, ” about ten pounds.” 

“ Ten pounds, eh? Does that include editorial 
salaries? ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir. Mine would be the only edito- 
rial salary. I should do it all myself.” 

” Oh, you would, would you? You’re not lack- 
ing in pluck, Mr. Quain. Well, I’ll think the mat- 
ter over, and write to you in a few days’ time. 
Good afternoon.” 

Hannibal took up his hat and got out of the 
room as quickly as he could. Even this slight 
action was a point in his favor. Business men 
like an Interview to end when it is ended. They 
have neither the time nor the inclination for cere- 
monial leave-takings. Many people, especially 
ladies, make the mistake of trying to further their 
cause in a few final words, overlooking the fact 
that the business man to whom they have been 
talking would not terminate the interview unless 
he was quite sure that he had heard all that there 
was to hear. Reiterated statements only bore 
him, and stamp the visitor as an amateur. 

“ Stand not upon the order of your going, but 
go at once.” There Is an excellent motto for 
everybody who wants to get something out of a 
man of affairs. Hannibal had acted upon it by 
instinct. The great Lord London owes nine- 


32 


LORD LONDON 


tenths of everything that he has done and every- 
thing that he possesses to instinct. 

What did Sir Albert mean by “ a few days? ” 

Hannibal put it down at three days. Three 
whole days and three whole nights seemed a ter- 
rible time to wait. There were six posts a day 
in St. John’s Wood; eighteen times the postman 
must call before he could hope for any end to this 
awful suspense. He could not even relieve his 
mind by talking on the subject, for he had kept 
his visit to the offices of the “ London Weekly 
Album ” a profound secret from everybody, even 
Hasdrubal. If nothing came of the matter — 
sickening thought ! — he would be spared a cer- 
tain amount of humiliation. Lizzie, the servant, 
was his only confidante, and Lizzie had forgotten 
all about it long ago in the maze of step-washing, 
and door-answering, and table-laying, and table- 
clearing, and bed-making, and washing-up, and 
boot-blacking. 

On the morning of the fourth day, Hannibal 
met the postman nearly a quarter of a mile from 
the house. 

“ Good-morning, postman,” he said airily. 
“ Anything for me ? ” 

“ No. Three for yer Pa, two for yer Ma, and 
that’s all.” 

“ Are you sure? ” 

“ O’ course I’m sure.” 

Oh, well, there were five more posts that day. 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 


33 


Sir Albert was a business man, and the letter 
would surely come by one of those five posts. If 
it didn’t, there was still the next day, and the day 
after that, and the day after that. 

But a whole week went by, bringing no letter 
from the great man. Hannibal’s mother noticed 
that the boy looked pale, and insisted on his tak- 
ing some medicine. She also rebuked him for 
hanging too much about the house, and secretly 
wondered whether he was in love. (Hannibal, 
as a matter of fact, was in love, but Sheila had 
left Miss Crundall’s seminary three months ago, 
and was safely at home in her father’s Warwick- 
shire Rectory.) 

At the end of a fortnight, Hannibal felt com- 
pelled to communicate with Sir Albert Curtain, 
reminding him of his promise. But how should 
this be done? If he wrote a letter, it would be 
opened by Sir Albert’s private secretary, and might 
never reach Sir Albert himself. In the meantime, 
there would be more suspense. He dare not tele- 
phone; besides, the telephone in those days was 
not even installed in every newspaper-office, far 
less was it accessible at every street corner. He 
might, of course, call, but again his instinct warned 
him that this would be rather like boiling his cab- 
bages twice. It would be an anti-climax. 

At last he hit upon the plan of sending a pre- 
paid telegram. He had not much left in the way 
of pocket-money after paying for the cards, but 


34 


LORD LONDON 


he had heard of people in need of temporary 
assistance raising money at pawn-shops. On a 
certain morning, then, behold the future Lord 
London timidly passing beneath the three golden 
balls, and pushing across a counter, for the inspec- 
tion of a grinning young Hebrew, his silver watch 
and chain, won the year previously In a cycling 
race. 

“ How much can you let me have on this? ” he 
asked as carelessly as possible. 

“ Want to sell it? ” 

“ No. I only want to pawn It.” 

“ Five bob.” 

” Only five shillings! It’s solid silver! ” 

“ Silver ain’t worth anything nowadays.” 

“ Really? And — ^ and how much would It be 
worth if I sold It? ” 

“ Six bob.” 

“Is that all?” 

“ ’Ow many times must I tell yer ! ” 

He felt like punching the wretched creature’s 
face across the counter, but that would not have 
been at all wise. In addition to the probable ap- 
pearance in the police-court, and the fine, and the 
costs, and the anger of his father, and the grief of 
his mother, his name would appear in the papers, 
and Sir Albert Curtain might see It. 

He had no objection to his name appearing In 
the papers as often as he could contrive to get It 
there, but not as the assailant of an unfortunate 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 


35 

Jew boy in a Soho pawn-shop. Swallowing his 
anger, therefore, he merely said: 

“ I’ll pawn it. Give me the five shillings.” 

This was the wire that he dispatched, ten min- 
utes later, to Sir Albert: 

“ Greatly astonished not to have heard from 
you. Must approach another firm Monday next. 

“ Hannibal Quain.” 

He prepaid the reply, having filled in the ad- 
dress after his name with great care. Then he 
hurried home, and was met on the door-step by 
Hasdrubal, Socrates, Virgil, Galahad, and An- 
thony. Ajax, who found it better to come to 
anchor on all occasions rather than run the risk 
of buffeting by fraternal waves, was seated on the 
lowest stair. 

“ There’s a telegram for you, Han ! ” screamed 
the chorus. 

“ Oh, is there? ” replied Hannibal, with admir- 
able calmness. 

“ Has wanted to open it,” announced Virgil, 
“ but Soc and I wouldn’t let him.” 

“You!” scoffed Hasdrubal. “I could take 
you and Soc on together and give you a jolly good 
hiding! ” 

“ Brag,” said Soc, quietly. 

“ Oh, dry up ! ” commanded Hannibal, and 
they dried up forthwith. “ Where’s my tele- 
gram ? ” 


36 


LORD LONDON 


It was eventually found and handed to him — 
a sadly crumpled affair, looking more like a piece 
of battered orange-peel than a telegram. Hanni- 
bal, easily foiling the attempts of the brothers 
to peep at the message, opened it and read as 
follows : 

“Please call Monday at twelve. 

“ Curtain.” 

He crumpled the whole thing up in his fist, and 
shoved it into his trouser-pocket. Then he pushed 
through his brothers, and strode into the garden. 
They thought that his conduct was due to mere 
cockiness because he had received a telegram. 
Little they knew! Such temperaments as his are 
hardened by failure, softened by success. Hanni- 
bal strode into the garden because he was ashamed 
to let them see the sudden mist that had come 
into his eyes. . . . 

All that day, and for many days to come, he 
had to keep his coat buttoned lest they should miss 
the silver watch and chain. 

It will not be necessary to relate in detail the 
second interview between Hannibal and Sir Al- 
bert Curtain. 

Sir Albert, to tell the truth, still adhered to his 
original opinion that there was not very much 
chance of making money out of a weekly paper 
for errand-boys. Still, there were things in Han- 
nibal’s favor. Sir Albert’s machines were not 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 


37 


fully occupied in printing the “ London Weekly 
Album the paper, and the Illustrations, and the 
literary matter for the new journal could be kept 
down to a very small figure ; it would not hurt the 
regular staff to have a little more work on their 
shoulders; knd there were several rooms in the 
rather rambling building that had not as yet been 
turned to account. But the element that weighed 
most with Sir Albert was the enthusiasm and obvi- 
ous cleverness of Hannibal himself. He saw that, 
given proper encouragement and opportunity and 
guidance, the boy would go far. And he knew 
the difficulty of finding really able young men for 
editorial work. There were plenty of young men 
who could bring out a paper, but the young man 
he was looking for — and the young man that 
every intelligent proprietor of a newspaper is 
looking for — was the young man who can not 
only bring out his paper, but can lend to every 
page that inspired something which is best known 
in journalism as flair. 

Hannibal, he had seen almost at a glance, had 
flair; it was quite worth while to give him his 
head, within reasonable limits, to see how he 
would shape. 

Behold Mr. Hannibal Quain, therefore, in- 
stalled as editor in the editorial room of the 
“ Boy’s Chum.” Sir Albert had taken him at his 
word, and Hannibal constituted the entire edito- 
rial staff. 


38 


LORD LONDON 


The sum allowed him for editorial expenses 
was twelve pounds per week. In return for this, 
he had to find two or three clever young men to 
write his stories and articles; he had to find two 
or three clever young men to do his drawings : the 
“ Answers to Correspondents,” storyettes, jokes, 
verses, riddles, health hints, worldly advice, and 
instruction In practical economics he did himself. 

There were always the back numbers of the 
“London Weekly Album” to draw upon, there 
were always plenty of American papers about the 
office, and It was always possible to use nice little 
pieces from other London and provincial papers 
in return for the courtesy of an acknowledgment. 

Whatever he contrived to save out of the twelve 
pounds, Hannibal had for himself by way of sal- 
ary. It must ever be to his credit that his salary 
did little more than pay for his ’bus fares and his 
lunch. Some boys would have been foolish 
enough to enrich themselves at the expense of the 
editorial columns, but Hannibal was too far-seeing 
for that. After all, he still lived at home, and 
had little need to think too seriously of the 
future. 

It may be said at once that the “ Boy’s Chum ” 
never leaped into tremendous favor with the pub- 
lic. Hannibal, once inside the office, found Sir 
Albert a very difficult person to see; whenever he 
did succeed in obtaining an interview, however, 
he swiftly proceeded to point out that his paper 


HANNIBAL IN HARNESS 


39 

could not be expected to thrive on an editorial al- 
lowance of twelve pounds a week. 

“ What more do you want? ” Sir Albert would 
reply. 

“ In the first place, sir, I want to give away at 
least ten pounds a week in prizes. Then I want 
to secure a serial story by one of the really big 
writers. I want to have picture-posters on the 
hoardings. I want to have a good colored plate 
at least once a month. I want — ” 

“ Yes, Mr. Quain, I know you want all these 
things, and now I’ll tell you what I want. Before 
I give you any more money to spend, I want to 
see your paper turn the corner and begin to show 
a profit. You may think that I’m one of the old 
school; I daresay I am, but old school or new 
school, there is no sense in throwing good money 
after bad. When I see a more definite inclination 
on the part of your public to buy your paper, you 
shall have colored plates, and prizes, and posters, 
and all the rest of it, but don’t ask me for any 
more money until that happens. You needn’t 
think I’m not watching you ; I’m watching you very 
carefully, and I read your paper myself every 
week. There are some good things in it and 
there are some bad things in it, but Rome was not 
built in a day, and I don’t expect to be able to 
put old heads on young shoulders. Come to me 
again at the end of the year, and we will have 
another talk.” 


40 


LORD LONDON 


With these well-meant and kindly observations, 
Hannibal had to be content. After all, he was get- 
ting more and more experience every day; he 
thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere of the office; 
he was a little king among his staff ; and the paper 
continued to appear. It even increased, slowly, 
in circulation, and, at the end of two years, might 
possibly have developed into a permanent success 
but for the sudden and rather tragic happening 
mentioned at the beginning of this chapter. 

On returning home from the office one evening, 
he was met outside the house by Hasdrubal, who 
informed him that their father was dead. 


Ill 


SHEILA 

H annibal was taken by his mother to 
look upon the face of his father for the 
last time. In common with most young 
people, he had never thought much about death. 
When he did think of it, it was as something that 
happened in other families, and in other houses, 
and to other people, but was very remote from his 
own family and his own house and home. As he 
stood by the bedside, gazing upon the face of his 
dead father, he was surprised to find how very 
little emotion was stirred in him by this occurrence. 
The two had never been very near together; his 
father was rather a dreamy man, rather aloof, 
rather difficult to know well. 

It seemed to Hannibal that he had just fallen 
asleep, and would not wake again. That very 
simple and very hackneyed thought really was his 
prevailing impression. 

But when he came down-stairs, having left his 
mother kneeling by the side of the bed, and saw 
his six young brothers in more or less forlorn 
attitudes in the dining-room, it suddenly came to 
him what the death of his father meant. This 
was another of the great determining moments in 
41 


42 


LORD LONDON 


Hannibal’s life. He realized, quite clearly and 
yet without panic, that the future existence of 
these six boys depended upon him. It was im- 
possible to say as yet how they would develop, 
but he knew, even then, that, so long as he lived, 
he would be the leader and chief mainstay of the 
family. 

The thought did not depress him. On the con- 
trary, he was conscious of a strange new strength 
flowing into him at every pore, so that he might 
almost have been said to exult in this opportunity 
of showing and testing his strength. 

Plans for the future came and went in his head. 
As he stood there, he made up his mind that he 
could not afford to spend any more time in the 
editorial room of the “ Boy’s Chum.” He must 
do something much bigger, much bolder, much 
more remunerative. These mouths had to be fed, 
but he did not stop at that. These boys must be 
educated — yes, and educated a great deal better 
than he had been educated. 

Hasdrubal, for example, had just left school; 
he must go back for another year at least. His 
brothers were gentlemen born, and they ought 
to take up in the world the rightful positions of 
gentlemen. It had fallen to him, and him alone, 
to do these things for them. 

His brain was very busy during the days before 
the funeral. No sooner was that unnecessarily 
depressing ceremony over than he announced to 


SHEILA 


43 

his mother his intention of being absent from 
home for the week-end. 

“ Where are you going? ” 

“ I would rather not tell you, Mother.” 

“ You have never concealed anything from me 
before, Hannibal.” 

“ Oh, yes, I have. Mother — lots of things.” 

“ Important things ? ” 

“ Yes. Quite important things. For example, 
I didn’t tell you anything about my present berth 
until it was all fixed up.” 

” You have never been away from home before 
without my knowing where you were going.” 

“ That’s true. Mother. But I’m nineteen now, 
and the head of the family. You must allow me 
to make certain decisions for myself. If you 
don’t, I shall become dependent upon your judg- 
ment, and about as much use in the world as the 
average man.” 

“ You think yourself stronger, then, than the 
average man?” 

“ I know I am,” said Hannibal simply. 

On Saturday morning he had to go to his office. 
On Saturday afternoon, he mounted his bicycle, 
and took the Uxbridge Road. (He was quite a 
notable amateur bicyclist.) The roads were per- 
fect for riding, and the thoughts that buzzed and 
sang in his brain were powerful enough to have 
driven the machine almost without the aid of a 
sturdy pair of legs. 


44 


LORD LONDON 


He sailed through Henley-on-Thames, left Ox- 
ford in the lurch, and at seven o’clock, jumped 
down before a little wayside inn half a mile from 
Chipping Norton. Here he refreshed himself 
with a couple of boiled eggs, plenty of bread and 
butter and water-cress, and two large cups of tea. 

It was growing dusk when he started off again, 
but he had ridden over the road in more than one 
race, and knew it well. Two hours more, and 
he was wheeling his machine up the drive of 
Clinton Bagot Rectory, the home of the Reverend 
Peter Gillfoyle, Mrs. Gillfoyle, and their daugh- 
ter, Sheila. 

It was half-past nine, and Mr. Gillfoyle and 
Sheila were intent upon a final game of chess. A 
ring at the bell at that time of night in this quiet 
country place was a novelty, and they stopped 
playing while the maid went to open the door. 
Mrs. Gillfoyle, who was dozing over a novel by 
the fireside, became suddenly alert. 

“ Mr. Quain to see you, sir.” 

“ Mr. who?” asked Mr. and Mrs. Gillfoyle in 
chorus. 

Sheila said nothing, but her heart began to beat 
in an uncomfortably rapid manner. 

“ Mr. Quain, sir. He’s come from London on 
his bicycle, and I’ve shown him into the study.” 

“ Quain? ” echoed Mrs. Gillfoyle. “ Isn’t that 
the name of the curious gentleman who lived next 


SHEILA 


45 

door to Miss Crundall’s, Sheila, and used to play 
the flute?” 

“ Yes,” said Sheila, “ I think it is.” 

“ What on earth can he be doing down here? ” 
continued Mrs. Gillfoyle, staring at the parlor- 
maid as though she had exceeded her duties in 
making such a strange announcement. 

“ Perhaps I’d better go and see,” suggested 
Mr. Gillfoyle, without stirring. 

“ Shall I go? ” volunteered Sheila, “ I think I 
know him slightly.” 

“ Perhaps you’d better, dear,” agreed her 
mother. “ I don’t like your father to have ex- 
citing interviews on Saturdays.” 

Sheila slipped out of the room, taking care to 
close the door behind her. If she expected Mr. 
Quain the elder, it was very nice and thoughtful 
of her to pause for a full minute in front of the 
hall-glass. As a matter of fact, however, faith- 
ful Hannah had given her the straight tip. 

“ It’s not an old gentleman. Miss; it’s a young 
gentleman, and he’s very nice looking, with fair 
’air, and all over dust ! ” 

“ His head ! ” exclaimed Sheila. “ Has he had 
an accident? ” 

“No, miss, not his ’ead — only his clo’es.” 

“ Oh, all right. You needn’t wait, Hannah.” 

Hannah returned to the kitchen with the stimu- 
lating intelligence, while Sheila composed her 


46 


LORD LONDON 


pretty features, and then sailed into the study as 
calmly and indifferently as though one of the vil- 
lagers had called to arrange about the time of a 
baptism. 

“ Mr. Quain?” 

“ Yes. Don’t pretend you don’t remember me, 
Sheila.” 

“ I think I do. But you mustn’t call me that.” 

“Why not? I’m not any different. Are 
you? ” 

“ Yes. Can’t you see? ” 

“ You mean your hair? ” 

“ And my skirts. I’m grown up.” 

“ That’s a good job.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because I’ve come to ask you to marry me.” 

Even Sheila was silenced by this, but only for 
one moment. The next, she burst into a ringing 
laugh that caused her father to raise his eye- 
brows, and made her mother sit up uneasily in 
her chair. 

“Well, you really are the quaintest boy in the 
world ! D’you really mean to say that you jumped 
on your bicycle and dashed down here through 
all this dust, without any warning whatever, and 
without knowing father or mother, and without 
even asking if you might come, to say that?” 

“ Yes,” replied Hannibal. “ What would have 
been the good of asking? They wouldn’t have 
understood in a letter — people never do. If 


SHEILA 


47 

they turn me out, I shall go to the inn and ride 
back to-morrow.” 

“ Oh,” said Sheila, “ I don’t think they’ll turn 
you out. All the same, it’s a little — Quainish, 
isn’t it? ” 

“ Yes,” Hannibal agreed; “ but then I’m Quain, 
you see.” 

“ Are you awfully proud of that? ” 

“ Not so very as yet, but I’m going to be, and 
so are you.” 

“ You needn’t be so cross. I wasn’t trying to 
snub you.” 

“ I know that. I’m not a bit cross.” 

“You spoke in a very fiery way.” 

“ That’s different. I feel fiery. I’m all on 
fire Inside my head.” 

“ I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Why?” 

“Because — because it must be very uncom- 
fortable.” 

“ That isn’t why you’re sorry. You’ve just 
thought of that.” 

“ Why am I sorry, then? ” 

“ Because — you thought I didn’t really mean 
what I said just now.” 

“ What about? ” 

“ About wanting you to marry me.” 

“What a frightfully conceited remark! ” 

“ Not at all. You don’t follow. I don’t say 
that you want to marry me, but, even if you don’t. 


48 


LORD LONDON 


you wouldn’t like to think that my asking you was 
merely the result of a fit of temporary insanity, 
would you? ” 

“ That’s very clever.” 

“ Yes, I am clever. And so are you. That’s 
partly why I want you to marry me. We could 
achieve almost anything.” 

“ I don’t want to be married because I’m 
clever.” 

“ All the other things are implied.” 

” What things? ” 

“ Oh, you know — tact, and — and all that. 
All the things that make you the Right Person.” 

“ You haven’t said a word about my looks.” 

“ No, because that’s so silly. Look here, 
Sheila — I shall call you Sheila ! — as you said 
just now, I think a good deal of my own gifts 
and abilities. I shouldn’t ask you to marry me 
unless I thought you would be able to keep pace 
with me. Don’t let’s waste time fooling each 
other. Life’s too short. If you don’t want to 
marry me, say so, and I’ll get on my bicycle and 
go back to London.” 

“ I’m not going to be rushed into it.” 

“ That’s the only way. People who consider 
and consider and consider, never do anything. 
I’ve got a big scheme on hand, and I want to get 
to work on it. My father’s dead, and I’ve got a 
mother and six brothers to keep. Well, I could 
get to work with my scheme without you, but I 


SHEILA 


49 


could do it twice as well with you. Are you 
going to hang about down here amongst the cab- 
bages and turnips and these moldy old villagers, 
or are you coming up to London to plunge into the 
full tide of it with me and take our chance among 
the breakers? It’ll be a struggle, a hard struggle, 
and we may go under, but, by Jove, it’ll be excit- 
ing! Well, what do you say? Will you come 
or won’t you? ” 

At this point in the conversation, the door 
opened again, and Mrs. Gillfoyle entered. 

“ What a long time you are, Sheila, my dear. 
How do you do, Mr. Quain? What a long ride 
you have had! I’ve told Cook to cut you some 
sandwiches. Can you eat beef or would you pre- 
fer ham? We have some ham in the house, but 
I think beef better for you at this time of night. 
It’s more easily digested. I’m sure your mother 
would say the same. Is she quite well? ” 

“ Yes, quite, thank you,” replied Hannibal, sud- 
denly realizing that his task was not going to be 
very easy. There was something in the manner 
of this quiet, motherly old lady which suggested 
a tremendous power of resistance. 

“ You haven’t told me yet whether you can 
eat beef sandwiches,” continued Mrs. Gillfoyle. 

“ Oh, thank you very much ; I can eat any- 
thing.” 

Mrs. Gillfoyle smiled. There was a quiet 
roguishness in her smile. 


50 


LORD LONDON 


“ I’m not asking you to eat ‘ anything,’ Mr. 
Quain. It’s very nice beef. We have a good 
butcher here. My husband is most particular 
about his food. Go and see if the sandwiches 
are ready, Sheila, and, if they are, bring them in.” 
(Sheila went.) “ I’m having a bed prepared for 
you, Mr. Quain. You’ll stay the night, of 
course? ” 

“ Well, Mrs. Gillfoyle,” said Hannibal, reso- 
lutely, “ I’m not quite sure.” 

“ Then think it over,” replied the old lady, quite 
undisturbed. ” It won’t do Hannah any harm to 
make up a bed. She’s getting very fat and lazy. 
Does your mother find much difficulty in getting 
good servants?” 

“ You must excuse me, Mrs. Gillfoyle, but I 
really haven’t time to discuss the servant prob- 
lem. I have come down from London with a 
specific object in view. Don’t you think I had 
better tell you what it is?” 

“ Why not? ” replied Mrs. Gillfoyle, sooth- 
ingly. 

“ I have come to ask your daughter to be my 
wife.” 

“ Of course you have,” said Mrs. Gillfoyle, 
composedly smoothing out her dress and regard- 
ing Hannibal with the same roguish smile, her 
head a little on one side, her mouth a little bit 
down at the corners, and her eye-lids slightly low- 
ered. 


SHEILA 


51 


“ I’m glad you’re not surprised.” 

“Why should I be surprised? Young people 
are always doing these sort of things.” 

This was rather a staggerer for Hannibal, who 
had felt, up to this point, that he was carrying 
the thing through with an unusual amount of orig- 
inality and dash. He had not expected to meet 
so formidable an opponent as Mrs. Gillfoyle. 
The disconcerting part of it was that she didn’t 
look at all formidable; she just looked a plump, 
smiling, good-natured, easy, tender-hearted, un- 
sophisticated, motherly old body. That smile put 
young Hannibal on his mettle. He determined to 
astonish the old lady at all costs. 

“ I suppose,” he said, “ we could be married 
almost at once by special license? ” 

“ I suppose you could,” agreed Mrs. Gillfoyle, 
her head still well on one side. 

“Wednesday, for example?” 

“ Oh, quite by Wednesday.” 

“ It would be nice if Mr. Gillfoyle performed 
the ceremony, I think.” 

“ Very nice.” 

“ Would you wish it to be a quiet affair? ” 

“ I think so. I don’t like a lot of people tram- 
pling about. It’s bad enough when the Bishop 
comes down for the confirmation, once every three 
years. Have you been confirmed, Mr. Quain?” 

“ Of course,” said Hannibal, very annoyed. 

“ That’s a good thing. It makes people so 


52 


LORD LONDON 


self-conscious when they have to be confirmed after 
they’re grown up. That’s why I’m always so 
sorry for dissenters ; they baptize them, I believe, 
when they are quite men and women ; I have heard 
that they push them right into the water. It must 
be very disconcerting.” 

“ Very,” Hannibal agreed. “ If you don’t 
mind, Mrs. Gillfoyle, I should like to get back to 
the original question.” 

“ I was rather under the impression,” observed 
the old lady, ” that I was asking questions. Still, 
you talk as long as you like, Mr. Quain. I like 
to hear the voices of young people; they’re so 
fresh.” 

“ I don’t think I have anything more to say, 
Mrs. Gillfoyle, thank you. With your permission, 
I shall return to London to-morrow to make the 
necessary arrangements.” 

“ Oh, why not wait till Monday? My hus- 
band doesn’t approve of Sunday cycling. Besides, 
I want you to hear him preach. He’s a little dull 
in the morning, but that’s only to be expected. 
Most men are. He wakes up in the evening — 
we have a better congregation, and the lights tend 
to excite him — and then he tells some delightful 
anecdotes.” 

“ I’m quite sure he does,” said Hannibal, with 
an attempt to meet the old lady on her own ground. 
“ Good anecdotes are always interesting, are they 
not?” 


SHEILA 


53 


“ Yes, especially when you haven’t heard them 
before. I have been hearing my husband’s anec- 
dotes, in the pulpit and out of it, for nearly forty 
years. That is where you would have the advan- 
tage of me. Youth is a difficult time of life, Mr. 
Quain, but it has its compensations. How old 
are you? ” 

“Nineteen. But I’m older than most fellows 
of my own age.” 

“ Oh, don’t apologize, Mr. Quain. I was mar- 
ried when I was seventeen.” 

“ The same age as Sheila ! ” 

“ Yes, the same age as Sheila.” 

“ By the way, have you been engaged to her 
long? ” 

“ Only about ten minutes.” 

“ Ah. Well, I’m not a believer in long en- 
gagements. . . . Here are the sandwiches. I 
hope you’ll find that Cook has put sufficient mus- 
tard in them. If not, you must ask for more. I 
like my guests to be quite comfortable and at 
home. Sheila, my dear, Mr. Quain tells me that 
he wishes to marry you on Wednesday. Will 
that be convenient? ” 

“ Certainly not,” replied Sheila. 

“ There,” said Mrs. Gillfoyle. “ I was afraid 
there might be complications. The longer you 
live, Mr. Quain, the more you’ll find how difficult 
it is to get people to do exactly what you want 
without making complications. Have another lit- 


54 


LORD LONDON 


tie talk with Sheila while I go and send my husband 
to bed. He always has a warm bath on Saturday 
nights, and I like to see that everything is made 
nice and comfortable for him. Don’t forget to 
eat your sandwiches, and don’t eat them too fast. 
If you would like a glass of beer, Sheila will get 
it for you. Take the peg out of the barrel, 
darling, and don’t forget to put it back, because 
otherwise the beer gets flat and then the servants 
grumble. If you prefer tea, Mr. Quain, I will 
have some made for you. I never think it wise to 
drink tea when you are eating meat; they say that 
it turns the meat to leather. I don’t know 
whether that’s true, but it must be very unpleas- 
ant to have leather inside you. I’ll be back di- 
rectly.” 

She sailed gently out of the room, closing the 
door behind her. 

“ What a remarkably intelligent old lady! ” ex- 
claimed Hannibal. 

“ Why is it remarkable ? Did you expect to 
find her stupid? ” 

“ No, but her intelligence is quite above the 
average. She wasn’t in the least surprised, for 
instance, to hear that we had been engaged for ten 
minutes.” 

“ That’s the worst of Mother,” said Sheila. 
“ She has a little trick of irritating people, and 
then they say things which are not true.” 

“ But it is true. When you ask people to marry 


SHEILA 


55 


you, and they don’t refuse, It means that they are 
giving themselves time. Being engaged is merely 
giving oneself time. Ever since you went for the 
sandwiches, you have been wondering whether you 
would like to marry me or not. You went for the 
sandwiches ten minutes ago, so that we’ve been 
engaged for ten minutes.” 

“ Which isn’t long enough.” 

“ Oh, don’t be conventional.” 

“ I don’t know whether I’m being conventional 
or not, and I don’t in the least care. I do lots of 
conventional things. I go to bed at night, for 
example, and I get up in the morning. I sit down 
at a table to have my dinner, and I do my hair in 
front of the glass. We all do hundreds of con- 
ventional things every day, and it’s no use pre- 
tending we don’t. To be unconventional for the 
sake of being unconventional is the shallowest 
form of conventionality.” 

“ I’m so glad to hear you say that. I was 
afraid you might have developed into a clever 
girl. I hate cleverness. I know it Is the fashion 
just now, but, in a few years’ time. It will be quite 
out of date.” 

“ But you said that you were clever, and that 
I was clever, and that was why you wanted us to 
be married.” 

“ Yes, I know I did. But I didn’t mean just 
‘ cleverness ’ when I said the word ‘ clever.’ I 
meant that I had genius and you had tact,” 


56 


LORD LONDON 


“ How can I be sure that you have genius? ” 

“ By helping me to bring it out.” 

“ But I should like to be sure before we were 
married.” 

“That’s just it — you can’t be. You must 
take it on trust. I’m quite prepared to take you 
on trust.” 

“ Thanks.” 

“ And, after all, it’s more of a gamble for me 
than it is for you.” 

“ I don’t see that.” 

“ But it is! It matters very much to a man 
what sort of a wife he has, because a wife is a 
tremendously important factor in a man’s life. 
It doesn’t matter so much to a woman what sort 
of a husband she has, because women have so 
many other factors in their lives. A man just 
marries a wife, but a woman marries, not only a 
husband, but a house, and servants, and friends, 
and, possibly, children.” 

“ I see all that. But you haven’t yet told me 
whether you have a house and servants.” 

“ I haven’t either. It’s no fun beginning by 
having things ; the fun is to get them.” 

“ I have got them.” 

“Where?” 

“ Here.” 

“ Excuse me, you haven’t anything of the sort. 
This is your father’s house, and these are your 
mother’s servants. Oh, don’t let’s be petty, 


SHEILA 


57 


Sheila ! Let’s be fine, and daring, and take the 
world by the neck and squeeze it until it has to 
cry for mercy ! ” 

He jumped up, and came towards her, his 
blue eyes shining, his boyish face very eager. 
Something in his tone, or in his words, or in the 
look of him, or in the air about them compelled 
her to rise and face him. The next moment, she 
was in his arms, and they were exchanging their 
first kiss. . . . 

“ Your father’s in his bath,” said a gentle voice 
at the door. “ He’s singing ‘ Through all the 
Changing Scenes of Life ’ quite nicely. Now, Mr. 
Quain, have you eaten all your sandwiches ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ I see you haven’t. Sit down and finish them 
at once. Sheila, my dear, get him a glass of beer, 
and then you had better go to bed. I haven’t 
said anything to my husband, Mr. Quain, about 
what is to happen on Wednesday because I never 
let him be excited on Saturday nights. To-mor- 
row evening, after he has got his night’s sermon 
on ‘ Contentment ’ off his mind, will be quite time 
enough.” 


IV 


HANNIBAL DEMANDS A HELPMATE 

M r. GILLFOYLE quite fulfilled all 
Mrs. Gillfoyle’s promises In his ser- 
mon on Contentment. He preached 
without manuscript, and almost without notes. 
His manner, on ascending the stairs of the pulpit, 
was a little diffident, because Mr. Gillfoyle was 
a very shy man. As he progressed, however, he 
warmed to his theme, and, by the time he had 
finished, had reached an almost bullying tone, as 
who should say, “ You’ve got to be content. If 
you’re not content now, you’d better see to it that 
you’re thoroughly content before the week-end. 
If you don’t, there may be a shortage next winter 
in blankets, coal, and soup.” 

The main point was, as Mrs. Gillfoyle often re- 
marked with much satisfaction to her friends, that 
Mr. Gillfoyle, if he convinced nobody else, did, 
at any rate, convince himself. He was always at 
his best at the Sunday evening supper-table. The 
sermon had roused him, and he was ready to talk 
far into the night. On Monday, no doubt, he 
would feel a little jaded, and would remain rather 
jaded until Sunday came round again. Undoubt- 
58 


DEMANDING A HELPMATE 59 

edly, it was his Sunday labors that kept Mr. Gill- 
foyle, on the whole, well and hearty. 

“ Thank you, sir, for an excellent sermon,” said 
Hannibal. 

In point of fact, Hannibal had heartily dis- 
agreed with every word. He had already grasped 
the truth that if people sat down with their hands 
folded in front of them, and took life as it came, 
without murmuring, the human race would stead- 
ily retrograde until, some day in the far distant 
future, Mr. Gillfoyle’s descendants would be hang- 
ing from boughs by their tails and eating nuts. 
He was wise enough, however, to keep his opinions 
to himself. There was nothing to be gained by 
spoiling the old gentleman’s cold beef and salad; 
on the contrary, he had every reason to pray that 
Mr. Gillfoyle’s digestion was in perfect working 
order. 

“You’re fond of sermons, Mr. Quain?” re- 
plied Mr. Gillfoyle, carving-knife in air. 

“ Yes, sir, of good sermons — very.” 

“ What church do you attend in London? ” 

“ Westminster Abbey,” said Hannibal, 
promptly. 

“ Ah! Mrs. Gillfoyle and I generally manage 
to attend a service at the Abbey when we make 
one of our little jaunts to town. Don’t we, my 
dear? ” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Gillfoyle. “ I like the Ab- 
bey, but I never can make out where the clergy 


6o 


LORD LONDON 


and the choir have got to. You don’t see them; 
you only hear them, and that’s rather unsatisfac- 
tory. And then the congregation seem afraid to 
join in the singing. If there’s a hymn I know, or 
a chant I know, I always join in the singing my- 
self, no matter where I am. I find that in Lon- 
don, people turn and stare if one does that. They 
couldn’t be more surprised if one went to a theater 
and suddenly joined in the conversation on the 
stage. Sheila, my dear, give Mr. Quain another 
potato.” 

“ Nothing like congregational singing! ” agreed 
Mr. Gillfoyle. “ Nothing like congregational 
singing I ” he repeated, emphatically. “ What do 
you say, Mr. Quain? ” 

“ Quite right, sir. The singing in your church 
is really very good for a country place.” 

“ I shouldn’t call it good,” observed Mrs. Gill- 
foyle, in her gentle manner, “ but it’s often very 
hearty — especially when Mr. Pardo, the butcher, 
is able to attend. Mr. Pardo has been in our 
choir for thirty-two years. He had a very pow- 
erful voice even as a boy, and the volume increased 
enormously as he grew older. I often find it quite 
unnecessary to go to church at all when Mr. Pardo 
is in his place. His voice, and the organ accom- 
paniment, really sound very well from the gar- 
den.” 

“ Does Mr. Pardo sing solos? ” 


DEMANDING A HELPMATE 6i 


“ No, not actual solos, but the remainder of the 
choir trouble him very little.” 

Supper over, Mrs. Gillfoyle and Sheila left the 
dining-room. They knew what Hannibal had to 
say, for he had been saying it to them at intervals 
all through the day. Mr. Gillfoyle, also, must 
have had an inkling, for he suddenly became very 
nervous, and lit a cigarette with such vigor that 
he had burnt nearly half of it before he got rid 
of the match. Observing these symptoms, Han- 
nibal became more at his ease. 

“ Another glass of port, Mr. Quain? ” 

“ No, thank you, sir.” 

“ Do you smoke? ” 

“ T^iank you, sir.” 

“ These are very good cigarettes. They were 
sent to me as a sample. I get a great many little 
luxuries in that way. Wonderful, the enterprise 
of the present day ! ” 

“ Yes, sir. I hope you don’t disapprove of 
enterprise? ” 

“ Oh, no, provided that the object in view is a 
worthy one.” 

“ Quite so, sir. Would you call the intellectual 
improvement of the lower classes a worthy enter- 
prise? ” 

“ Certainly, certainly. Whilst I deplore the 
fact that too much attention is given to purely secu- 
lar matters, I am bound to admit that the Board 


62 


LORD LONDON 


Schools are having a marked effect on the youth 
of this country. Not always, perhaps, the effect 
that one would wish, but, on the whole, they might 
be worse. I am a broad-minded man, Mr. Quain, 
and I do not desire to prevent the people from 
thinking for themselves. What I could wish is 
that the present system of education should be 
leavened with a little more humanity, a little more 
sympathy, a finer appreciation of the duties of 
Man towards Man.” 

“ Excellent, sir. I propose to introduce that 
human element.” 

“You, Mr. Quain?” 

“ Yes, sir. With your help.” 

“With my help?” 

Mr. Gillfoyle was frankly flabbergasted. He 
put down his cigarette, grasped the arms of his 
chair very tightly — rather as though he expected 
it suddenly to rise in the air with him — and stared 
at this astonishing young man with eyes protrud- 
ing from their sockets. 

“ It’s in your power, Mr. Gillfoyle, to aid me 
very greatly, and, by aiding me, to benefit that 
enormous body of people of whom we have been 
speaking. Let me explain. I am about to start 
a paper.” 

“ A religious paper? ” 

“ Not precisely. You may be acquainted with 
a journal called ‘ Shavings ’? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I know it very well. A very bright 


DEMANDING A HELPMATE 63 

little paper. I often buy it when I have a long 
railway journey before me.” 

“ Very well, sir. There is a page in that paper 
dealing with the queries of readers. They write 
to the Editor on all sorts of subjects, and he re- 
plies to the letters in the paper. I have always 
understood that that feature is conducted by the 
proprietor of the paper himself, Mr. Armstrong. 
I think you will agree that it is by far the most 
interesting page in the paper? ” 

“Yes, I think it is. I have often thought the 
same.” 

“ I am very glad to hear that. Now, I have 
conceived the idea of starting a weekly paper 
which shall consist entirely of Answers to Corre- 
spondents.” 

“ An excellent idea! ” exclaimed Mr. Gillfoyle. 

Hannibal rose, seized the old gentleman’s hand, 
grasped it firmly, released it, and sat down 
again. 

“ By that remark, sir, you have encouraged me 
more than I can say. It is an excellent idea, and 
it’s bound to succeed. The more I think of it, the 
more sure I am that it’s bound to succeed. Look 
what we should save in the way of contributions ! 
Why, the readers would write half the paper 
themselves! Look at the variety of topics we 
should touch upon! There, again, the readers 
come in ; they supply the topics ! And what inter- 
ests one person to the extent of making him write 


64 


LORD LONDON 


to us about It is bound to interest thousands of 
other people who have not the time or the energy 
to sit down and write to a stranger about it ! ” 

“Capital! Capital!” cried Mr. Gillfoyle. 
“Capital! Capital!” 

“ I was sure that you would see it, sir! ” 

Hannibal, in his excitement, unconsciously 
raised his voice. “ And there is no paper like it 
in this country, or in America, or in the whole 
world! I tell you frankly, Mr. Gillfoyle, that I 
have hit upon an idea which is worth a hundred 
thousand pounds ! ” 

“ So much as that? ” asked Mr. Gillfoyle In an 
awed whisper. 

“Yes, more than that! It’s worth a million 
pounds ! ” 

“Phew! . . . And do you think, Mr. Quain, 
that you will really get a very big sum for your 
idea?” 

The love of wealth, say what we may, is born 
in every human being. Mr. Gillfoyle, clergyman 
though he was, excellent man though he was, con- 
tent though he was, pretended to be nothing more 
than human. The vision of the vast fortune con- 
jured up by Hannibal had completely swept from 
his mind the starting point of this historic con- 
versation, namely, the cultivation of the human- 
ities in the masses. 

“ I do, Mr. Gillfoyle — with your help.” 

“ I will certainly do whatever lies in my power, 


DEMANDING A HELPMATE 65 


but you must bear in mind that I am only a poor 
country parson. Such small private means as I 
possess are safely invested in sound securities, and 
I do not think that I should be justified — ” 

“ Oh, I’m not going to ask you to put any 
money into my paper, sir, but I am going to ask 
you for something more important than money. 
I want your daughter.” 

“ My — my daughter! ” 

“ Yes, sir. We have known each other for 
four years, more or less, and I know — I can’t tell 
you how I know it, but I do know it — that 
I can succeed with her at my side, and that I could 
not succeed nearly so well without her.” 

“You take my breath away! In what capac- 
ity — ? ” 

“ In the capacity of my wife.” 

“ Your wife! You, a mere boy, have the au- 
dacity to ask me to give you my daughter because 
you can’t make a success of your paper without 
her help?” 

The Rector, flushing, rose to his feet. Hanni- 
bal remained very calm. He was a little pale, no 
doubt, more than a little excited, but that was 
only to be expected. 

“ If you will allow me to say so, sir, there are 
two mistakes in your statement. In the first place, 
I am not asking you to give me your daughter. 
I am asking you to place no obstacle in the way 
of her giving herself to me. In the second place. 


66 


LORD LONDON 


I did not say that I couldn’t make a success of my 
paper without her help. I said that I knew I could 
succeed better with her help.” 

“ Well, of all the cool young men that I have 
ever encountered, you are certainly the coolest, 
Mr. Quain! You do not even pretend that you 
love my daughter! You simply say, and even 
modify the statement, that you want her because 
she will be useful to you 1 ” 

“ Might I venture to ask, Mr. Gillfoyle, why 
you wanted Mrs. Gillfoyle?” 

“You have no right, as a matter of fact, to ask 
anything of the sort. But I’ll tell you. I wanted 
Mrs. Gillfoyle because I loved her, sir! Because 
she loved me! Because it was the one object of 
my life to make her happy ! ” 

The Rector was still on his feet. Hannibal, 
not to be at a disadvantage, also rose. 

“ One more question, sir,” he said. “ Did 
Mrs. Gillfoyle’s father object to your marrying 
her?” 

“ That’s a private matter, sir.” 

“ In a way, yes, but there must be a good many 
people who could answer the question. Mrs. 
Gillfoyle herself, for instance.” 

“ Mrs. Gillfoyle would not dream of satisfying 
your curiosity.” 

“ I am sorry to undeceive you, but she has al- 
ready told me that her father flatly refused to 
consent to her marriage with you, until you could 


DEMANDING A HELPMATE 67 


prove to him that you were capable of supporting 
her in comparative comfort.” 

“ Oh, indeed! So Mrs. Gillfoyle told you, did 
she? Well, I am not ashamed of it. I quickly 
gave her father the assurance that he very properly 
required. Besides, the cases are utterly dissim- 
ilar.” 

“ I fail to see it,” said Hannibal. “ I am quite 
prepared to give you just such an assurance.” 

“ On all the points? ” 

“ On all the points. Number one : I love your 
daughter. Number two: It’s one of the objects 
of my life to make her happy. Number three — ” 

“ Ah I ‘ One of the objects.’ I said, ‘ the one 
object.’ There’s a very great difference.” 

“ I’m not a quibbler, Mr. Gillfoyle. I candidly 
admit that I am also anxious to be happy myself. 
Am I to understand that you were quite indifferent 
to your own happiness? ” 

“Yes, sir. Quite!” 

“ Then I cannot rise to such heights, but I will 
go this far : If your daughter were not happy, I 
couldn’t possibly be happy myself, so that, if only 
to insure my own happiness, I shall spare no effort 
to make her happy.” 

“ Humph ! ” 

“ Let’s pass on to number three : Your daugh- 
ter loves me.” 

“Rubbish! Rubbish, sir! She’s a mere 
child!” 


68 


LORD LONDON 


“ The same age of Mrs. Gillfoyle when she 
married.” 

“ You appear to have been inquiring pretty 
closely into my affairs ? ” 

“Yes, sir, I took that liberty.” 

“ And how do you know that my daughter 
loves you? She’s never told me anything about 
it, and, so far as I know, she’s never told her 
mother anything about it. Why should she con- 
fide in you, a comparative stranger ? ” 

“ Because,” replied Hannibal, “ she has a very 
sweet nature.” 

“ I know that, sir. I don’t need you to tell me 
anything about my daughter’s nature ! ” 

“ I beg your pardon. You asked me why she 
should tell me that she loved me, when she had 
not told you or Mrs. Gillfoyle anything about 
it. I was endeavoring to answer that question. 
She did not tell you because the information 
would have given you no pleasure. On the 
other hand, she told me because she knew it 
would give me very great pleasure. There re- 
mains only the fourth point — the question of 
means.” 

“ Yes, sir, that still remains. I shall want very 
precise information on that point.” 

“ Naturally. Would you mind telling me what 
your own income was when you married ? ” 

“ Yes, I should object very strongly.” 

“ Then I will tell you. You were a curate in 


DEMANDING A HELPMATE 69 


the small parish of Cloughborough, in Yorkshire. 
You had a salary of one hundred and twenty 
pounds per annum; in other words, rather more 
than two pounds per week. You married on that 
sum, and managed to get along on it fairly com- 
fortably.” 

“ Did Mrs. Gillfoyle tell you that also? ” 

“ No, sir. Miss Sheila told me that.” 

“ Women talk too much. Besides, I had pros- 
pects. What prospects have you ? ” 

“ I have already outlined my prospects to you. 
Roughly, I expect to become a peer of the realm 
and a millionaire.” 

Mr. Gillfoyle staggered backwards and groped 
for the bell-rope. The jangle was answered, 
rather suddenly, by the appearance of Mrs. Gill- 
foyle. 

“ Do you want anything, darling? ” 

“ Yes, yes, my dear. You have left me alone 
with this young man rather too long. My head is 
beginning to go round. He has talked a great 
deal of nonsense about Sheila, and he winds up by 
telling me that he is going to be a millionaire and 
a peer of the realm. I fear he must be a little 
weak in the head.” 

“ Let’s all sit down,” said Mrs. Gillfoyle, in 
her gentle way. “ Are you weak in the head, Mr. 
Quain? ” 

“ I don’t think so, Mrs. Gillfoyle. Mr. Gill- 
foyle raised all the objections which you antici- 


70 LORD LONDON 

pated, and I have met them to the best of my 
ability.” 

“ Tell me how you met them.” 

“ Certainly. Mr. Gillfoyle wished to know 
whether I loved Sheila; I assured him that I did. 
I don’t see that I can very well prove it better than 
by coming down here for the express purpose of 
asking her to marry me.” 

“ Yes, you could,” said Mr. Gillfoyle. “ You 
could prove it better by being willing to wait 
seven years for her, as Jacob did for Rachel.” 

“ That’s a good point. Papa,” Mrs. Gillfoyle 
agreed. “ What have you to say to that, Mr. 
Quain? ” 

“ I have this to say. In the days of Jacob, peo- 
ple lived to be about seven hundred years old. In 
these days, we live to be about seventy years old. 
Divide Jacob’s seven years by ten, and you will 
see that the Jacob and Rachel affair was rather a 
hurried match.” 

Mrs. Gillfoyle nodded. 

“ I disapprove of liberty in connection with the 
Scriptures,” retorted the Rector. 

“ I must really take leave to point out, sir, that 
I didn’t introduce the Scriptures. You did it your- 
self, for the purposes of your own argument. If 
you really think, and if Mrs. Gillfoyle thinks, that 
Sheila and I will get to know each other better 
by being engaged for a year, instead of being 
married for a year, I’m quite willing to wait a 


DEMANDING A HELPMATE 71 

year, but you must bear in mind that I shall be 
working very hard all that time on my new paper, 
and we should be able to see each other very 
rarely. Moreover, the paper wouldn’t have 
nearly so good a chance of success if I were work- 
ing on it single-handed. That, however, is rather 
beside the point for the moment: the question is, 
do I, or do I not, love Miss Gillfoyle? ” 

“ I think he does. Papa,” said Mrs. Gillfoyle. 

“ And I think he’s too young to know what he’s 
talking about,” objected the Rector. 

“ I should be sorry to think. Papa, that you 
didn’t know what you were talking about when 
you proposed to me.” 

“ You must never suggest anything of the sort, 
my dear. Young men were more thoughtful then 
than they are now.” 

“ Mr. Quain has had a good deal of late to 
make him thoughtful. Come; I think we might 
admit that he is quite sincere in his desire to marry 
Sheila. After all, there are plenty of girls in 
London, you know; he must have met some of 
them.” 

“ Oh, very well. Let us get on.” 

“ One moment, sir. I take it that you will not 
again call this first point into question? ” 

“ I might. I decline to bind myself.” 

“ And I must decline to leave the point until it’s 
settled.” 

“ My husband has a constitutional dislike to 


72 


LORD LONDON 


settling anything, Mr. Quain. Some people have, 
you know. You mustn’t be impatient with them. 
We all have our little idiosyncrasies. You, for 
instance, like to settle everything out-of-hand; to 
Mr. Gillfoyle, that seems just as unreasonable as, 
I have no doubt, his method seems to you.” 

“ But some things must be settled definitely,” 
argued Hannibal. “ For example, supposing that 
Mr. Gillfoyle were conducting the marriage cere- 
mony between Sheila and myself: it would be 
rather awkward if he stopped short just as the 
ring was produced, and decided to leave the mat- 
ter indefinite, wouldn’t it ? ” 

“ That’s mere nonsense ! I haven’t time for 
rubbish of that sort! ” 

“ I didn’t know that you were pressed for time, 
dear? ” 

“ Well, I am. I want to go to bed.” 

This was another little trick of Mr. Gillfoyle’s. 
When any important matter under discussion 
reached a very difficult point, he would suddenly 
go for a walk, or retire to his study and lock the 
door, or remember that one of his parishioners 
was anxiously expecting a visit at that precise mo- 
ment. As a young woman, Mrs. Gillfoyle had 
tried very hard to cure him of this little trick, and 
had even wasted tears over it, but all to no avail. 
As the years went by, she gradually realized that 
her husband was like that, and that it was just as 
absurd to endeavor to break him of leaving things 


DEMANDING A HELPMATE 73 


unsettled as it would be to upbraid a man born 
with one leg shorter than the other for not walk- 
ing like ordinary people. 

She sympathized with Hannibal, who was new 
to Mr. Gillfoyle, and, with a vigor and impetu- 
osity of youth, was prepared to flounder in the 
quicksand all night in the vain hope of finding a 
rock under his feet. 

“ Very well, darling,” she said; “by all means 
go to bed, but I understand that Mr. Quain must 
return to London in the morning, and that he will 
leave here at six o’clock. How would it be to 
leave the matter in my hands? I’m just as anx- 
ious about Sheila’s happiness as you are, and, now 
that we know exactly the points on which you wish 
to be satisfied, I really do think you might trust 
us to arrive at the best solution of the difficulty.” 

A large and almost visible cloud was immedi- 
ately swept away from the Rector’s brow. He 
still looked grave, but that was only because he felt 
the situation demanded gravity. 

“ Very well, my dear. If you are willing to 
take the responsibility, I will leave the matter in 
your hands. Should disaster come of this, pray 
remember that I gave you full warning.” 

With these solemn words, followed by a deep 
sigh, Mr. Gillfoyle shook hands with Hannibal, 
implanted a gentle kiss on his wife’s forehead, 
cleared his throat, brushed some crumbs from his 
buttonless waistcoat, and quietly left the room. 


74 


LORD LONDON 


“ Now,” said Hannibal, brisk and alert, “ we 
can get to business.” 

Mrs. Gillfoyle did not resent this remark; she 
had heard it so often. 

“ I really don’t know, of course, how far you 
got with him.” 

“ Well, I told him that I loved Sheila, and that 
she loved me, and that it was one of the chief ob- 
jects of my life to make her happy, and that I was 
at present making as much money, or rather more 
than he was himself making when he married, and 
that I expected eventually to become a million- 
aire.” 

” And a peer,” Mrs. Gillfoyle reminded him, 
with her subtle smile. “ Don’t forget that.” 

“ No, I hadn’t forgotten it. Other men have 
been raised to the peerage, and I don’t see why I 
shouldn’t be. It’s only a question of starting early 
enough, and working hard enough, and having 
enough brains.” 

“ Still, that’s looking rather far ahead. What 
we have to think of is the present. You say that 
you are making more money than my husband was 
making when we married, but surely, if you start 
your new paper, you will have to resign your pres- 
ent position? ” 

“ Yes, that’s true, but I needn’t resign it unless 
I like. I’m going to resign it, not because I’m 
willing to do with less money, but because I insist 
on having more. Surely that’s quite clear? ” 


DEMANDING A HELPMATE 75 


“ What you want is quite clear, but supposing 
you don’t get it? Where would you be then? 
And where would Sheila be then? ” 

“ It really does annoy me, Mrs. Gillfoyle, that 
you should insist on regarding me as a helpless 
idiot. I’m not surprised that Mr. Gillfoyle thinks 
of me in that way, because he has no imagination. 
He can’t believe that a man has abilities out of 
the common until he has proved it. But you have 
imagination; you are an exceptionally intelligent 
person; you understand things without having 
them proved to you in black and white. And yet 
you calmly sit there and ask me, almost as help- 
lessly as Mr. Gillfoyle might have put the ques- 
tion, what Sheila and I will do if my new paper 
fails! Why, what in the world do you imagine 
we shall do? Do you think that we shall take 
hands, like ‘ The Babes in the Wood,’ and walk 
into Epping Forest and die? Or do you 
think—?” 

“ I’m sorry. I see that it was a silly question. 
Besides, Sheila could always come back to us if 
necessary.” 

“ Thanks for taking the gloomiest possible 
view ! ” 

“ Well, now we’ll take the cheerful view. 
You’re going to start a paper, and it’s going to be 
a huge success, and you’re going right to the top.” 

“ That’s more like it,” said Hannibal. “ That’s 
the talk.” 


76 


LORD LONDON 


“ And now tell me : will you be able to get plenty 
of money out of your new paper right from the 
start, Mr. Quain? ” 

“Yes, certainly, because I shall pay myself a 
salary as editor, and I shall pay Sheila a salary as 
my assistant.” 

“ That sounds very nice. Where will this 
money come from ? ” 

“ It will come out of the money provided to 
start the paper.” 

“ Oh, yes. And has that money been pro- 
vided? ” 

“ No, not yet, because one must do things in 
the right order.” 

“ I see. First get your wife, and then get the 
money to start your paper. Most men would 
have gone the other way to work.” 

“ Yes, I know that, but most men go the wrong 
way to work. That’s why so few men succeed. 
If you’ll just look at the thing from my point of 
view, Mrs. Gillfoyle, you will see how simple it is. 
In all the world, there is probably not more than 
one woman who would make a suitable wife for 
one particular man. It’s of the first and greatest 
importance, therefore, that, having found, as he 
thinks, that one woman, the man should secure 
her. He can’t afford delay. On the other hand, 
there is any amount of money in the world. It 
is not as though one had to secure one particular 


DEMANDING A HELPMATE 77 

lump of money; any old lump will do. There- 
fore, first get your wife and then get your money 
to start your paper. Now, isn’t that awfully sim- 
ple?” 

“ You’re a genius,” said Mrs. Gillfoyle. 
“ Given luck, I really do believe that you’ll become 
both a millionaire and a peer.” 

Hannibal sprang from his chair, dashed across 
to the old lady, flung his arms about her neck, and 
kissed her soundly upon the cheek. 

“You’re a darling!” he cried. “You shall 
never regret it! ” 

“ Regret what? ” asked Mrs. Gillfoyle, adjust- 
ing a hairpin. 

“ Regret giving me Sheila.” 

“ But I haven’t given her to you yet. I must 
have another talk with her after you have gone 
to-morrow.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right. I know what she’ll do ! 
She told me this afternoon.” 

“ But she may have changed her mind by the 
morning. In the meantime, you have plenty to 
do; you’ll have to get this money to start your 
paper. How much will you want? ” 

“That’s easy enough; only two thousand 
pounds.” 

“ That seems a great deal of money. Do you 
know to whom you’ll go for it? ” 

“ No, not yet, but there’s more money than 


LORD LONDON 


78 

that in London. I know I shall get It; I always 
get what I want. Talking of that, may I get the 
license? ” 

“ Money first,” said Mrs. Gillfoyle, “ then the 
license, and then, perhaps, Sheila. Now go to 
bed, and don’t make too much noise going up- 
stairs, and don’t lie awake, and don’t expect to 
see me In the morning because I shan’t be up. I 
have ordered you some grilled ham for your 
breakfast, and a couple of boiled eggs and coffee. 
You have a long ride before you. Good-night 
and — good luck.” 

Hannibal opened the door for her. As she 
passed out, she laid one of her soft old hands on 
the lapel of his coat, drew down the young face 
to a level with her own, and gently returned the 
kiss that he had given her a little earlier. It was 
not such an impulsive kiss as his, nor such a warm 
kiss as the one that Sheila had given him in this 
same room the night before ; but the memory of it 
lingered long in Hannibal’s heart. 


V 


THE REWARD OF THE GOOD SAMARITAN 

HERE is In life an important element that 



goes by two very different names: suc- 


cessful men call it “ Opportunity ” ; to un- 
successful men it is known as “ Luck.” It must 
be admitted by any fair-minded person that, up 
to the present, Hannibal had not been unduly fa- 
vored by this element, except, perhaps. In the mat- 
ter of his natural gifts. 

He left Clinton Bagot Rectory a little later than 
the hour mentioned by Mrs. Gillfoyle — not a 
great deal later, but Sheila happened to be up and 
dressed by the surprising hour of six in the morn- 
ing, and the sun was shining, the birds were sing- 
ing, there was dew on the meadows, and there was 
a bend in the drive. 

Prosaic people have been known to wonder why 
the majority of houses in the country are Invisible 
from the drive-gate. Lovers never trouble their 
heads on the subject; they know well enough that 
all the world was made for lovers, and it is, there- 
fore, only fit and proper that the drive-gate should 
be invisible from the house. 


79 


8o 


LORD LONDON 


“ When shall I hear from you ? ” asked Sheila, 
just the least bit mournfully. 

“ Every hour of the day. I shall send a tele- 
gram from every Post Office I pass.” 

“ Don’t be silly. You’re not to waste your 
money.” 

“ Well, then, when would you like to hear from 
me? ” 

“ When you’ve something of tremendous im- 
portance to say.” 

“ That’s now. I love you.” 

“Do you?” 

“ Didn’t you know? ” 

“ I wasn’t certain.” 

“ Goodness gracious I ” Hannibal made haste 
to lean his bicycle against the gate-post. “ And I 
might have gone without telling you.” 

“ Oh, you’ve told me.” 

“And you don’t believe it? Then I must tell 
you, and tell you, and tell you until you do be- 
lieve it! ” 

So her told her, and told her, and told her, until 
the church clock, looking down upon them from 
a very dignified height, counted seven in sonorous 
tones. 

“Liar!” said Hannibal, looking up at him. 
“ It was seventy.” 

“ You’ll be fearfully late at your office, and then 
you’ll be dismissed, and I shall have ruined your 
career! A nice sort of helpmate! ” 


THE GOOD SAMARITAN 


8i 


“ That’s all right,” replied Hannibal, easily. 
“ There’s never anything to do on Monday morn- 
ing. Besides, I shall ride like the wind.” 

“ Because you’re so anxious to put all those 
long miles between us? ” 

“ No, my beloved; because the way back to you 
lies through London. I shall keep thinking of 
that.” 

“ You really are rather a dear, you know,” said 
Sheila, looking at him with all her soul in her dark 
eyes. 

” Dear — dear! ” ticked the church clock sol- 
emnly to himself, and he struck the quarter-past 
rather sharply. Hannibal noted the slight asper- 
ity in the tone and knew that it was deserved. 

Well, the only way to go was to go quickly. 
With extraordinary abruptness, therefore, he 
dashed at his bicycle, and was round the first bend 
in a cloud of dust before Sheila had fully realized 
that he was gone. 

Everybody who has ridden long distances on 
horseback, or on a bicycle, or in the train, knows 
that the regularity of progress creates a certain 
rhythm, and that this rhythm often expresses itself 
in words. As Hannibal sped swiftly towards 
London through the clear morning air, the sen- 
tence that thumped in his brain in time to his 
pedaling was this : “ How — shall — I — get 

— that — money ? How — shall — It — get — 
that — money ? How — shall — I — get — that 


82 


LORD LONDON 


! — money ? How — shall — I — get — that — 
money ? How — shall — I — get — that ■ — 

money? ” 

Through Stratford-on-Avon he whizzed, over 
the bridge, along the road to Shipston-on-Stour, 
through Shipston without a pause, and so up the 
long ascent that led to the summit of the Chiltern 
Hills. It was hard work, and he was beginning 
to get hot and thirsty. His head was bare, and 
the long, fair fringe that usually lay slant-wise 
across his forehead was now blown back in the 
breeze that indicated the pace at which he was 
traveling. He would dearly have liked, at any 
other time, to dismount and lie on his back in the 
long, cool grass by the roadside, staring up into 
the heights of Heaven, planning vast impossible 
schemes for the reorganization of the whole world 
on practical lines. For Hannibal was a practical 
idealist. But now he was racing to get back to 
Sheila, via London. There was no time for 
dreaming now. 

He gained the summit of the Chiltern Hills at 
last, and was looking forward to a glorious run 
down on the other side, when, on turning a bend, 
he beheld some two hundred yards in front of him 
what was evidently the wreck of a light trotting- 
gig. The horse had been turned loose, and was 
grazing at a little distance from the gig, and the 
driver, a young man of about thirty years of age, 
was sitting on the bank, leaning against a wheel of 


THE GOOD SAMARITAN 


83 


the wrecked gig, composedly smoking a cigar. 

His head was bare, his clothes were smothered 
with dust, and one side of his face was badly 
scratched. He made not the slightest attempt to 
move as Hannibal drew up, but merely raised his 
hand as an indication that he wished the bicyclist 
to stop. Evidently, thought Hannibal, a person 
accustomed to being obeyed. 

Hannibal, of course, at once jumped down from 
his machine, propped it up against the hedge, and 
hurried across to the stranger to see what he could 
do for him. 

“ Had a spill?” he asked. 

“ Looks that way.” 

“ Can I do anything for you? ” 

“ Why, yes. I’d be mighty obliged if you’d 
just call at the next livery stables you happen to 
strike, and get them to come right along here as 
soon as convenient and just clear up this mess. I 
guess it don’t improve the look of the country- 
side on a nice bright morning.” 

“ Certainly I will,” said Hannibal. “ But are 
you hurt? ” 

“ Well, I don’t seem to have broken any bones 
this journey, as far as I can judge, but I came a 
good-sized bump when the buggy turned over, 
and I thought I’d just postpone investigations un- 
til I’d had a cheroot to steady me up. You don’t 
happen to have a drop of brandy about you, I sup- 
pose? ” 


84 


LORD LONDON 


“ I’m sorry to say I haven’t, but I’ll tell them 
to bring you some. I fancy there are some livery 
stables not far from here, and I shan’t be long 
getting there downhill. Sure there’s nothing else 
I can do? ” 

“ Sure there is,” replied the stranger. “ You 
can do me the honor of exchanging cards.” 

With some little difficulty he found his card- 
case, extracted a card, and handed it to Hannibal, 
who, in return, handed the stranger one of his. 

“ I’m mighty obliged to you, Mr. Quain,” said 
the stranger. ” There don’t seem to be much 
traffic along this track, and I might have been 
here quite a while if you hadn’t happened along. 
I see you’re a Londoner. I am also residing, for 
the time being, in that charming city. If you 
should chance to be along my way, and would care 
to drop in. I’ll be able to thank you in a more 
gracious manner for your timely assistance.” 

Still seated, he removed his cigar from his 
mouth, made a courteous little bow to Hannibal, 
replaced his cigar, and went on smoking. 

“ Thanks, awfully,” said Hannibal. “ Now I’ll 
nip along.” 

He tore down the hill and was soon at the liv- 
ery stables, where he reported the accident and 
saw to it that assistance was sent without delay. 
Then he continued on his way to London, and, in 
due course, arrived at his office. 

It was not until he was changing his clothes the 


THE GOOD SAMARITAN 85 

same evening that he thought of looking at the 
stranger’s card. Then he read as follows : 


Mr. Randolph J. Hamm. 

Bath Club, 172, The Albany. 
Badminton, Piccadilly. 
Hurlingham, London, Eng. 


This card interested Hannibal. There were 
several features about it that were new to him. 
To begin with, it gave an unusual amount of in- 
formation. It was almost like a brief synopsis 
of Mr. Hamm’s life, position, and achievements. 

He was an American, of course; that was why 
he was careful to distinguish “ London, England,” 
from any other London that might be in the mind 
of the reader. His clubs showed, even apart from 
the situation in which Hannibal had found him, 
that Mr. Hamm was a true sportsman; the num- 
ber and variety of them, together with the fact 
that he had chambers in The Albany, proved him 
to be a man of means. 

At this juncture, one man will exclaim, “ His 
Opportunity!” while another will say, “What 
luck I ” 

Opportunity or luck, Hannibal quickly made up 


86 


LORD LONDON 


his mind to accept Mr. Hamm’s pressing invita- 
tion to call upon him. After all, Mr. Hamm was 
more or less of a stranger, presumably, to British 
soil, and it would only be a matter of courtesy 
for Hannibal to inquire how he had reached home, 
and whether the results of the accident were at all 
serious. 

Fortunately, he had lately invested in his first 
dress-suit. This he now put on, feeling uncom- 
monly glad to have it, and went downstairs look- 
ing, as Hasdrubal expressed it, like a “ Piccadilly 
Johnnie.” Well, Hasdrubal was nearer the mark 
than he knew. Hannibal was going to see some- 
thing of life in the West End. 

The outer door of Mr. Hamm’s chambers was 
opened by Mr. Hamm’s footman, who passed 
Hannibal on to Mr. Hamm’s gentleman-in-wait- 
ing, who placed Hannibal in a deep leather chair, 
mixed him a whisky-and-soda without a word, 
and put the cigars and the new copy of “ Punch ” 
at his elbow. 

“ Mr. Hamm instructed me to say, sir, that he 
would not detain you long. He is at present in 
the hands of his surgeon.” 

” Good gracious ! ” replied Hannibal. “ Fd 
no idea he was as bad as that! I wouldn’t have 
called if Fd known!” 

“ Purely a precautionary measure, sir. Mr. 
Hamm wished to make quite sure that there were 
no bones broken this time.” 


THE GOOD SAMARITAN 87 

“ Is he in the habit, then, of breaking his 
bones? ” 

“ Yes, sir. Since he took up his residence in 
this country, some eighteen months ago, Mr. 
Hamm has broken almost every bone in his body. 
Indeed, sir, I understand that he came to England 
for that express purpose.” 

Hannibal shot a quick look at the man to see 
if he was guilty of the impertinence of trying to 
chaff him, but the servant’s face was perfectly 
grave. 

“ Have you everything you require, sir, for the 
moment? ” 

“ Everything, thank you. Please beg Mr. 
Hamm not to hurry the examination on my ac- 
count.” 

“ Very good, sir.” 

The man withdrew noiselessly, and noiselessly 
closed the door. Hannibal was now free to ex- 
amine the apartment at his ease. The first ob- 
jects to catch his eye were a large and miscellane- 
ous collection of sporting implements — bats, ten- 
nis-rackets, whips, golf-clubs, an oar, a pair of 
sculls, several pairs of stirrups, a jockey’s cap, box- 
ing gloves, croquet mallets, right down to a ping- 
pong ball. The pictures, also, reflected the sport- 
ing taste of Mr. Hamm. There were pictures of 
horses in mid-air; men in mid-air; dogs in mid- 
air. There were pictures of men shooting birds, 
and men shooting lions, and men shooting ele- 


88 


LORD LONDON 


phants, and men shooting tigers. There were 
pictures of people in all kinds of boats — sail- 
ing boats, whaling boats, rowing boats, herring 
boats, punts, racing boats, dinghies, and Canadian 
canoes. There were pictures of people going up 
in balloons and coming down in parachutes. In 
short, there was no phase of the world of sport 
that was not pictured on the crowded walls of this 
extraordinary room. 

At the far end of the room, there was a huge 
bookcase. Hannibal, being interested in books, 
stole across the room and examined the titles. 
“ How to Shoot “ How to Fish “ How to 
Swim ” ; “ How to Ride ” ; “ How to Play Golf ” ; 
“ How to Play Polo ” ; “ How to Row ” ; “ How 
to Play Cricket”; ‘‘How to Play Football.” 
There were biographies of famous sportsmen; 
there was a whole row of bound volumes of the 
“ Badminton Magazine.” Of other kinds of 
literature, there was not one single example. 
Hannibal came to the conclusion that Mr. Hamm 
was either the most versatile sportsman in the 
world or a monomaniac. 

For the rest, the room was most luxuriously fur- 
nished. Hannibal had never dreamed of such lux- 
ury in 'his life. He had never walked on carpet so 
soft, or seen chairs so deep, or ornaments so 
costly, or curtains so rich. Providence had un- 
doubtedly delivered Mr. Randolph J. Hamm into 


THE GOOD SAMARITAN 89 

his hands, and he would not fly in the face of 
Providence on any account. 

Hearing voices in the hall, he slipped back to 
his chair, took up a copy of “ Punch,” and was 
apparently absorbed in a picture of the usual little 
girl saying something mechanically precocious to 
the conventionally astonished mother when Mr. 
Hamm entered. 

“ Well, say, if this isn’t mighty kind of you, 
Mr. Quain! I hoped you’d be around one of 
these days to give me the opportunity of thanking 
you for your great kindness, but I hardly expected 
to see you within a couple of hours of my return. 
Sit right down and rest yourself, Mr. Quain. You 
must be mighty fatigued after riding all that dis- 
tance on your bicycle. I never saw a man go off so 
quick outside a race-track since I settled in this 
country. We’re used to things being done quick 
on the other side, Mr. Quain, but you English 
folk, if I may take the liberty of saying so, are 
apt to take life a trifle more slowly. But as for 
you, Mr. Quain, why everything you do is so quick 
you might almost be an American. You were 
away down the road like greased lightning; you 
sent that relief party along before I’d had time to 
smoke half my cigar; and now I find you sitting 
here, in your evening clothes, just as though you 
hadn’t been near a bicycle for a month.” 

“ I hope the result of the surgeon’s examination 
was satisfactory? ” 


90 


LORD LONDON 


“ Well, the answer to that question Is according 
to how one regards the matter. You see, Mr. 
Quain, I am an American who has made it the 
ambition of his life to become an English gentle- 
man. When my father died, about two years ago, 
I asked myself what I would like to be better than 
anything else in the whole wide world, and I came 
to the conclusion that I would like to be a real 
English gentleman better than the greatest Amer- 
ican financier that ever reigned in Wall Street. So 
I just realized my private fortune, which was 
pretty considerable, and I came to this country to 
study the ways of the English gentry. 

“ I very soon made up my mind, Mr. Quain, 
that the one outstanding characteristic of the real 
English gentleman was his love for sport, and I 
threw myself with some determination into as 
many branches of sport as one man could be ex- 
pected to tackle at a time. As you will see by 
these walls, Mr. Quain, I have done pretty nigh 
everything — up to the present, however, without 
any very notable success. I have been thrown in 
the hunting field twenty-seven times; I dislocated 
my left shoulder playing polo at Hurlingham; I 
strained my heart rowing in a race from Mort- 
lake to Putney; I have played cricket at Lords 
— but I judge from the fact that there were no 
spectators present that the season was on the de- 
cline on the occasion of that match; I have had 
lessons in boxing, in fencing, and in trout fishing. 


THE GOOD SAMARITAN 


91 


“ When you found me this morning, to cut a 
long story short, I was engaged in a long-distance 
trotting match from Oxford to Stratford-on-Avon, 
my opponent being a young gentleman of noble 
descent at present in residence at Christ Church 
College. He was leading, I expect, by some 
miles; at any rate. I’d not set eyes on him since 
the start. In looking over my shoulder to admire 
the beauties of the English landscape, I appar- 
ently pulled a wrong string, with the unfortunate 
result witnessed by yourself. The surgeon tells 
me that I have broken no bones; so far, that is 
so much to the good. At the same time, he has 
strongly advised me to abandon all the more dan- 
gerous kinds of sport, and this, as you will easily 
understand, Mr. Quain, has caused me very great 
disappointment. I did feel that I was some way 
along the road to becoming an English gentle- 
man, but now, if I took the surgeon’s advice, I 
might just as well return to my own country. It’s 
rough luck, Mr. Quain, but I hope to bear it like 
a philosopher. Won’t you light your cigar? ” 

“ Thank you,” said Hannibal, “ but I should 
really prefer a cigarette.” 

“ Why, with all the pleasure in life, Mr. 
Quain.” 

Mr. Hamm rose, and Hannibal thought that he 
was about to hand him a cigarette, but the Amer- 
ican merely pressed a button, in answer to which 
the grave man-servant again appeared. 


92 


LORD LONDON 


“ James,” said Mr. Hamm, “ Mr. Quain will 
take a cigarette.” 

James crossed to the side-table, took up a silver 
cigarette box, opened it, carried it across to Han- 
nibal, replaced the box on the table, struck a 
match, held the flame to the end of the cigarette, 
blew out the match, placed the charred remains 
carefully in an ash-tray, walked to the door, opened 
it, let himself out, and closed the door. 

“ I’ve been thinking I’ll have to get rid of that 
man,” said Mr. Hamm. 

“ Really? What’s the matter with him? ” 

“ I’m not quite sure, but there must be some- 
thing wanting in him. I don’t feel any more afraid 
of James, Mr. Quain, than I do of you. When 
I first had him, I was a good deal more nervous 
with him than I am now; he made me feel kind of 
small when he came into the room. But that’s 
all past, and I don’t like it. He’ll have to go. 
It’s a pity, because he’s got accustomed to my ways, 
but no English gentleman would retain him in his 
service.” 

“ I’m afraid you’ll think me very stupid, but 
I don’t quite follow. Why should you wish him 
to make you feel small when he comes into the 
room? ” 

“ Well, Mr. Quain, I have made a very careful 
study, during my residence in this country, of 
English social life, and one of the first things I 
was privileged to learn was that every English 


THE GOOD SAMARITAN 


93 


gentleman is afraid of his servants. In America, 
it’s different. We ain’t afraid of our servants, nor 
they ain’t afraid of us : we all treat each other just 
the same way. Now, I didn’t come to this coun- 
try to live on the American plan; I came here to 
live on the English plan, and I expect, when I pay 
my man-servant a good salary, that I shall be 
scared to death of him just the same as any Eng- 
lish gentleman would be. You get me now, Mr. 
Quain, I trust? ” 

“ Yes,” said Hannibal, repressing a desire to 
laugh, since Mr. Hamm was evidently in dead 
earnest. “ I understand you, but I must admit 
that I’d never noticed that English people were 
afraid of their servants, and took pride in being 
so. You evidently have great powers of observa- 
tion, Mr. Hamm. You ought to write a book 
about our country.” 

“ That’s a curious thing, Mr. Quain, you men- 
tioning that. I’ve been thinking some time back 
that I ought to write a book, because I have no- 
ticed that many English gentlemen do so. But 
they do not write more than one book, and it’s 
therefore the aristocratic thing to write one book, 
and the vulgar thing to write more than one. I 
sized it up that I had better postpone the writing 
of my book until I had been located on English soil 
a while longer. Would you mind telling me 
frankly, Mr. Quain, whether you notice any 
marked difference between my handling of the 


94 


LORD LONDON 


English language, and the way in which your 
swell friends in this country handle it? ” 

“ Only a very slight difference,” said Hannibal. 

“ That’s very gratifying to me — very gratify- 
ing indeed. We think a mighty lot of the pure 
English accent and the pure English speech on our 
side of the water, Mr. Quain, as you will readily 
imagine.” 

“ But the American slang is delightful ! ” 

“Well, I don’t say but what we have some 
knack for figurative illustration.” 

“ You have, indeed! I should very much like 
to get you to write an article for my paper, Mr. 
Hamm.” 

“ What paper is that, Mr. Quain? ” 

“ A little paper, a little weekly paper, called 
‘ You and I.’ Do you like the title? ” 

“ Why, certainly I do. It’s a very charming 
title — nice and intimate. But I don’t seem to 
have run across that particular journal as yet.” 

“ No, you wouldn’t have seen it yet, because it 
isn’t out. I’m hoping to bring it out very 
shortly.” 

“ And you’ll be your own editor, Mr. Quain? ” 

“ Oh, yes. I shall be my own editor, and part- 
proprietor.” 

“ You have a partner? ” 

“ Not yet. I want to choose a man with a 
really sporting instinct.” 


THE GOOD SAMARITAN 95 

“ This is a sporting paper, then, I under- 
stand? ” 

“ No, not exactly a sporting paper, although I 
shall deal with sport as with all other matters. 
When I said that I wish to choose a man with a 
really sporting instinct, I meant a man who was 
not afraid of a little gamble. Running papers, 
Mr. Hamm, is one of the most fascinating gam- 
bles in the world. It beats horse-racing all to 
nothing. Have you ever run a paper, Mr. 
Hamm?” 

“ I can’t say I have. I once had a share in 
a theatrical syndicate, but the play, unfortunately, 
was not quite adapted to the tastes of the public. 
It was withdrawn, in point of fact, after the third 
night.” 

“ I hope you didn’t lose very much? ” 

“ The preliminary expenses were rather more 
than I had anticipated. They cost me three thou- 
sand pounds.” 

“Phew! A thousand pounds a night! That 
was pretty stiff ! Why, for a great deal less than 
that, I could run my paper for three months.” 

“ You interest me very greatly, Mr. Quain. 
Would you have any objection to just outlining to 
me a general idea of your paper? I might pos- 
sibly be the man for whom you’re waiting. I may 
say right here, Mr. Quain, that I conceived a 
strong liking for you this morning, and that feel- 


96 


LORD LONDON 


ing has been deepened by your attention and 
courtesy in calling to inquire after me this evening. 
You may rest assured that I shall respect your 
confidence in the most complete manner.” 

Quelling his excitement, Hannibal launched into 
a glowing description of his paper. He did not 
dwell too heavily on the general cost of the run- 
ning of such a paper, because he judged, and 
judged rightly, that the American temperament 
is less interested in scraping and saving than in 
magnitude. 

He drew a delightful picture of the homes of 
England — of the father returning to the bosom 
of his family with the latest copy of “ You and I ” 
in his pocket, and the group of happy children 
running to meet him, and the general settling down 
by the fireside to hear father reading gems of 
information and advice from the friendly columns. 
He dwelt very tenderly upon the wonderful help 
that such a journal must prove to the poorest in 
the land, yet he did not allow Mr. Hamm to over- 
look the fact that the enormous circulation to which 
“ You and I ” must necessarily attain would cause 
it to be respected in the circles of the greatest in 
the land. 

He concluded by pointing out that, although 
he was not in a position to provide any of the 
necessary capital himself, yet he would provide 
things that were harder to come by, and of more 


THE GOOD SAMARITAN 


97 


importance to the success of the enterprise than 
mere capital, namely, experience, energy, origi- 
nality, sympathy, understanding, self-sacrifice, and 
unbounded ambition. 

When Hannibal had at last finished speaking, 
there was silence for a few moments in the lux- 
urious apartment. Those moments seemed to 
Hannibal as long as centuries. At last Mr. Hamm 
rose very solemnly to his feet, and spoke as fol- 
lows: 

“ Mr. Quain, I have listened with very great 
attention to the details of your new journal which 
you have been so good and so confiding as to place 
before me. As I have told you, this is a line of 
country, to use one of your sporting idioms, which 
is new to me. At the same time, we Americans 
consider ourselves to be pretty shrewd judges of 
any scheme which is likely to command a commer- 
cial success, and it may gratify you to know that, in 
my opinion, I believe you have more than a sport- 
ing chance of striking oil with your journal. Now, 
Mr. Quain, I will be quite frank with you. 

“ As men go in this country, I am a wealthy 
man, but I am not so wealthy as I was when I ar- 
rived. It is commonly supposed in the United 
States of America that the cost of everything 
in London is precisely half the cost of everything 
in New York; I could undeceive my fellow-coun- 
trymen on that point. However, I have still, as 


98 


LORD LONDON 


I say, a pretty considerable fortune behind me, 
the greater part of which I hope to retain, if your 
countrymen will allow me to do so, to provide 
against future contingencies. 

“ Now, Mr. Quain, you said a while back that 
for three thousand pounds you could run your 
paper for three months. Was that said delib- 
erately or in haste, Mr. Quain?” 

“ Oh, deliberately — quite deliberately ! ” 

“ Very well, Mr. Quain, I will take you at your 
word. I will see my lawyer to-morrow morning, 
when I trust you will also make it convenient to 
be present, and the deeds of partnership in your 
new journal shall be drawn up. I will place the 
sum of three thousand sovereigns at your disposal, 
and you, on your side, will devote the whole of 
your time and your energy to making a success 
of this venture. At the conclusion of the three 
months, if your paper has found its way into the 
homes of England — for a very delightful pic- 
ture of which I have to thank you — all well and 
good; I take it that it will then be self-supporting. 
If, on the other hand, the people of England 
haven’t by that time opened their arms to your 
journal, I must beg leave to feel myself free to 
withdraw from the partnership without further 
loss. I hope you don’t consider these terms un- 
fair, Mr. Quain? ” 

“Unfair!” cried Hannibal, springing excit- 
edly to his feet. “Nothing could be fairer! 


THE GOOD SAMARITAN 


99 


Nothing could be more sportsmanlike! You 
don’t do yourself justice, Mr. Hamm, when you 
say that you haven’t succeeded in your attempts to 
become an English sportsman: why, you’re the 
finest sportsman I’ve ever met 1 ” 

That tribute, albeit boyish and spontaneous, was 
alone worth three thousand pounds to Randolph 
J. Hamm. His thin, clean-shaven face lit up with 
a genuine look of unqualified pleasure, and he 
strode across the room to Hannibal with hand 
outstretched. 

“ Put it there, Mr. Quain! This is a great 
night! Proud to have met you, sir! I’d like to 
have you come right along to my club and celebrate 
the occasion in a fitting manner ! It’s a little late 
for dinner — we’ve been talking a long time; 
but I guess there’s worse things than a grilled 
chicken and a bottle of champagne! Will you 
come? ” 

“ Thanks, very much,” said Hannibal, feeling, 
all of a sudden, quite in his natural element. 

He was still in his natural element when he 
signed to a magnificent waiter and ordered an 
unlimited number of telegraph-forms. With 
splendid recklessness, he wrote three telegrams — 
one to Mr. Gillfoyle, one to Mrs. Gillfoyle, and 
one to Sheila. They were delivered at Clinton 
Bagot Rectory just after eight o’clock the next 
morning. 


lOO 


LORD LONDON 


“Well!” exclaimed Mr. Glllfoyle. “Who 
would have thought it ! ” 

“ I should,” said Mrs. Gillfoyle, quietly. 

Sheila said nothing. She simply slipped away 
to her room. 


VI 

Hannibal’s busy day 

H annibal win always remember the day 
that followed this momentous interview 
with Mr. Randolph J. Hamm as one of 
the busiest of his life. Following his usual cus- 
tom, he said nothing to his people at home until 
the matter was signed and sealed. 

The interview with Mr. Hamm’s lawyer passed 
off fairly smoothly. The lawyer, it is true, looked 
at Hannibal as though he suspected him of being 
the chief of a notorious gang of thieves, who had 
set themselves the task of separating Mr. Hamm 
from the paternal dollars; Hannibal rather re- 
sented this look, and showed signs of haughtiness, 
but the American had a short quick way in busi- 
ness that proved effective even with an English 
lawyer. (Since that date, Hannibal has had 
many opportunities of studying the legal mind at 
close quarters, and he has come to understand 
that an agreement without difficulties would be as 
tame to a lawyer as a golf course without bunkers 
to a first-class player.) 

The agreement was eventually drawn up on the 


lOI 


102 


LORD LONDON 


exact lines sketched out by Mr. Hamm the previ- 
ous evening. Should the paper prove a success 
before the capital provided by Mr. Hamm was 
exhausted, Mr. Hamm would be entitled to half 
the profits so long as there were any profits to 
halve. On the other hand, should the paper not 
have turned the corner by the time the capital 
was exhausted, Mr. Hamm should be at liberty 
either to withdraw from the scheme altogether 
without further loss, or to retain his interest by 
providing further capital. The lawyer pointed 
out that this was a very advantageous agreement 
for Mr. Quain. Mr. Quain promptly retorted 
that, whilst Mr. Hamm was speculating merely 
with his money, he, Mr. Quain, was speculating 
with his youth, his energy, and his brains; and, 
moreover, was actually selling to Mr. Hamm one- 
half of an idea which might prove as valuable as 
an exhaustless gold-mine. 

“ Might,” said the lawyer, with a sniff. 

“ Will,” replied Hannibal. 

“ Young men are sanguine,” said the lawyer. 

“ I object to that remark.” 

“ On what grounds? ” asked the lawyer. 

“ I object to being put into a class.” 

“You consider yourself an exception to the 
ordinary run of humanity, Mr. Quain? ” 

“ Yes,” said Hannibal. 

The lawyer smiled, and glanced at Mr. Hamm. 
The smile found no sympathetic response on the 


HANNIBAL’S BUSY DAY 103 

lean countenance of the American, who did not at 
all like the turn that the interview was taking. 

“ See here, Mr. Salkeld; I don’t somehow catch 
the purpose of this very interesting dialogue. If 
you and Mr. Quain are anxious to enjoy a battle 
of wits, why, by all means, let her rip, but, so 
far as I’m concerned, I feel a little bit out of the 
running. I have decided to enter Mr. Quain as 
my candidate for this contest, and he has named 
his fee which amounts to the sum of three thou- 
sand pounds. If Mr. Quain should pull off the 
prize, which I think he will, I stand to pocket the 
half of It, which might prove to be no inconsid- 
erable sum. In the meantime, Mr. Quain has to 
go through the arduous preparation of training, 
and he has to stand up to his opponent and take 
the knocks. I take no knocks; I merely have a 
sporting bet, and, if I lose the cash. It will only 
be a similar experience to others that have come 
my way in this very delightful but not altogether 
inexpensive country. From which you will under- 
stand, Mr. Salkeld, that I have quite made up my 
mind to the prospect of losing this money, so that 
the quicker you can get your end of the stick fixed 
up all good and proper, the better I shall be 
pleased.” 

The hypercritical may urge that Mr. Hamm’s 
metaphors were a little mixed. Mixing meta- 
phors is rather like mixing a cocktail; some peo- 
ple make a nauseous mess of it, while others 


104 


LORD LONDON 


produce a delightfully exhilarating drink. Mr. 
Hamm’s metaphorical cocktail probably disagreed 
with the lawyer, but Hannibal found it wholly 
agreeable. 

The document having been signed in duplicate, 
witnessed, and stamped, Hannibal’s thoughts next 
turned to Sheila. Just as a newly-appointed Prime 
Minister at once proceeds to form his Cabinet, or 
a General on the eve of battle summons his staff 
to headquarters, so Hannibal was still firmly con- 
vinced that he must provide himself with the best 
possible assistant before he took any really definite 
steps in the bringing out of his paper. 

The idea of marriage by banns appalled him; 
life was far too short to waste three weeks of it 
waiting for something to happen which could be 
made to happen in three days. He had ascer- 
tained that people could get married in three days 
provided that one of the parties to the marriage 
“ hath had his or her usual place of abode for the 
space of fifteen days immediately preceding the 
issue of the license within the boundary of the 
Parish Church, or the District Parish in the 
Church of which the marriage is to be solem- 
nized.” 

Sheila, of course, had resided a good many more 
than fifteen days in the Parish of Clinton Bagot. 
The next step was to obtain the license. Sheila’s 
father was himself a surrogate, but Hannibal had 
had some insight into the methods of the Rector. 


HANNIBAL’S BUSY DAY 105 

He saw him vacillating, shilly-shallying, doubting, 
and, finally, postponing. It would be far better, 
he decided, to get the license himself, appoint a 
day for the wedding by telegram, slip down to 
Clinton Bagot, rush the old gentleman into the 
ceremony, and return to London with his bride. 

Return? Yes, but return where? He had not 
had time to think of that. It was obvious that 
they must have a place to live in, and it must be 
a nice place, and a suitable place, and a place 
which Sheila could look upon, for the time being, 
at any rate, as home. Really, when one came to 
tackle the matter, there were a great many ridicu- 
lous difficulties in the way of a man who wanted 
to get married. Everybody was always upbraid- 
ing single men for their selfishness, but the State, 
and Society, and Convention all placed as many 
difficulties in his way, when he did make up his 
mind to take the plunge, as though he was about 
to do something reserved for the very few. 

On consulting his “ Whitaker,” he discovered 
that marriage licenses could be obtained in Lon- 
don by application at the Vicar-General’s Office, 
3, Creed Lane, Ludgate Hill, E. C., between the 
hours of ten and four, and that the application 
for the license must be made in person by one of 
the parties about to be married. He discovered, 
further, that the fees for the license amounted to 
thirty shillings, and that there was an additional 
charge of ten shillings for the stamp. During 


io6 LORD LONDON 

his luncheon hour, therefore, behold Mr. Han- 
nibal Quain, with set face but a heart beating a 
little more quickly than usual — what is it about 
this business of marriage that even in the most 
insignificant preliminary stages always makes 
hearts beat more quickly than usual? — stalking 
up Ludgate Hill and turning off to the right down 
the quaint little byway known this many a year 
past as Creed Lane (within the old area of Doc- 
tors’ Commons). 

The door of Number Three — a number that 
must have bitten itself into the memories of many 
thousand prospective bridegrooms — opened into 
a small passage, which led Hannibal direct into 
a dark lofty room. A small counter faced him. 
Apart from this counter, the principal furniture of 
the room was a high desk, and in front of it a 
high stool. Upon this stool, an elderly gentle- 
man was perched. 

If Hannibal had expected the elderly gentleman 
to leap from the stool and rush to meet him with 
both hands outstretched, or if he had expected 
him to indulge in a knowing chuckle, or if he had 
expected him to give a little cough of slight sat- 
isfaction, or if he had expected him even to raise 
one eye-brow ever so slightly, he was quite mis- 
taken. The elderly gentleman, in point of fact, 
took no notice of Hannibal whatever until our 
impetuous young friend rapped sharply upon the 
counter with his knuckles; then at last he turned 


HANNIBAL’S BUSY DAY 


107 

his official head in a very human and unofficial way 
toward his new customer, and said, in the mildest 
and most unofficial voice imaginable, “ Good-day.” 

“ Good morning,” said Hannibal. 

The elderly gentleman, having thus established 
human relations with the very young gentleman 
at the counter, turned to his ledger again and went 
on writing. This mode of conduct seemed to 
Hannibal not a little unreasonable. Here was an 
office instituted and kept going for the sole pur- 
pose of enabling people to get married in a hurry; 
the authorities responsible for the establishment 
and conduct of the office fully realized that certain 
people were foolish enough to wish to get mar- 
ried in a hurry, and charged them, therefore, two 
pounds for the privilege. 

Very well; Hannibal was quite prepared to pay 
the two pounds; indeed, he had the two pounds 
in his trouser-pocket, and had turned them over 
and over at least five hundred times on his way 
up Ludgate Hill and down Creed Lane; but this 
mild-mannered, elderly gentleman, instead of 
springing from his stool and dashing at Hannibal 
in order to help him, so far as lay in his power, 
to get married in a hurry, merely gave him “ Good- 
day,” and went on scribbling in the ledger like any 
ordinary clerk. 

“ I say! ” said Hannibal, after a fairly lengthy 
pause. 

Again the elderly gentleman stopped writing 


io8 LORD LONDON 

and turned his gentle face toward the customer. 
“ Yes.” 

“ Can you spare me a moment? ” 

“ Certainly.” But still he made no effort to 
approach the counter. 

“ Thanks. I want to get married.” 

“ Yes?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Very good.” 

The elderly gentleman, still quite unperturbed, 
slid himself very slowly and cautiously from the 
summit of the high stool to the floor, and then, 
still very slowly and cautiously, opened a drawer 
and drew from it a printed form. 

“What is your name?” he asked softly. 

“ Hannibal Quain.” 

“ Quain is your surname? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And Hannibal is your Christian name? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“You have no other Christian name?” 

“ No.” 

“ What is your age ? ” 

“ Nineteen.” 

The elderly gentleman stopped writing, laid 
down his pen, turned his head, and looked in his 
gazelle-like way at Hannibal. “ That is very 
young, Mr. Quain. I presume you have the con- 
sent of your parents ? ” 

“ I am my own master,” replied Hannibal. 


HANNIBAL’S BUSY DAY 109 

“ You are prepared to swear to that? ” 

“ Yes, I am.” 

“ Very good. Kindly give me your full ad- 
dress.” 

Hannibal gave it. 

“And the name of the bride?” 

“ Miss Sheila Gillfoyle.” 

“ Gillfoyle is the surname? ” 

“ Yes.” ' 

“And Sheila is the Christian name?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Any other Christian name ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ And the age of the bride? ” 

“ Seventeen.” 

Once more came the laying down of the pen, the 
turn of the head, the gazelle-like gaze of the 
gentle eyes. And once more the soft comment, 
“ That is very young, Mr. Quain.” 

“ Her mother was married at the same age.” 

“ The lady is also an orphan? ” 

“ No. Both her parents are alive.” 

“ Ah. And the lady has the consent of her 
parents to this marriage? ” 

“Yes. Her father will himself perform the 
ceremony. He is the Rector of Clinton Bagot, 
in Warwickshire. And the ceremony is to be 
solemnized in the Parish of Clinton Bagot.” 

“ I must ask you whether the other party has 
resided for the space of fifteen days at Clinton 


no 


LORD LONDON 


Bagot, or will have resided for that space of time 
at Clinton Bagot for the fifteen days immediately 
preceding the ceremony?” 

“ Yes, she will.” 

“ Will you kindly come here and place your 
finger on this seal, Mr. Quain? ” 

Hannibal obeyed. 

“ Now, will you kindly say after me, ‘ I do sol- 
emnly declare that I know not of any lawful im- 
pediment why I, Hannibal Quain, may not be 
joined in matrimony to Sheila Gillfoyle.’ ” 

Hannibal, feeling rather as though he were 
being married to a phantom, repeated the words 
as he was told. The elderly gentleman then took 
from his desk a ten shilling stamp, which he 
placed upon the license. 

“ I must ask you for the sum of two pounds, 
if you please, Mr. Quain — thirty shillings for 
the fees and ten shillings for the stamp.” 

Hannibal produced his two hot sovereigns with 
the air of one who had another fifty or so in his 
pocket. The elderly gentleman slipped the 
license into an envelope and handed it to his cus- 
tomer; they bowed to each other politely, and 
Hannibal found his way out of the dark room 
into the little passage, and so once more into the 
broad light of Creed Lane. 

So far, so good. But another thought had oc- 
curred to him while he was conducting this im- 
portant business — he must provide himself with 


HANNIBAL’S BUSY DAY 


III 


a wedding-ring for Sheila, and, more than that, 
the ring must fit. He had sometimes wondered, 
idly enough, how bridegrooms managed to obtain 
wedding-rings that appeared to lit the finger of 
the bride so neatly; he now wished that he had 
made closer inquiries. Anyhow, there was one 
way out of the difficulty; he could wire to Sheila 
to forward him a ring that fitted the third finger 
of the left hand. 

While he was waiting for the ring to arrive, 
he would look about for a suitable home. He 
was also in urgent need, of course, of offices for 
the paper, and it suddenly occurred to him that 
these two rents might be very well combined. If 
he could find chambers in the neighborhood of 
Fleet Street, and they were neither too small nor 
too confined, there was really no reason why he 
and Sheila should not start life by actually living 
at the office, just as a trademan in a small way of 
business finds it convenient to live over the shop. 

The more he thought of it, the more the idea 
appealed to him. While Sheila was cooking the 
potatoes, she could be reading the manuscript of 
a short story, and while he was hunting up the 
answer to some difficult question on horticulture, 
for instance, he could also be having his dinner. 
He would get his budget of letters directly he 
awoke in the morning, and he would still be at 
the office when the last post was delivered at 
night. 


II2 


LORD LONDON 


Hannibal began to wonder why nobody had 
ever thought of this very simple, very economical, 
and very business-like mode of running a weekly 
paper before, but he soon dismissed the thought. 
It was of no use inquiring into the minds and 
brains of others; he had long since made up his 
mind on that point. Men who stopped to ask 
advice of others, he had often noticed, generally 
ended by doing nothing at all. He decided, forth- 
with, to look for his office-home. 

It is not mere sentiment that leads newspaper- 
folk to take up their quarters, if not in Fleet Street 
itself, then as near as possible to Fleet Street. 
To begin with, an address in that neighborhood 
inspires the confidence of the “ Trade.” The 
“ Trade ” is apt to regard the person who estab- 
lishes himself in, say, Bloomsbury, as an amateur; 
the “ Trade ” likes to have its business concen- 
trated. Hannibal knew, even at this tender age, 
that the success of his venture would be very 
dependent upon the good-will of the “ Trade.” 
He would have to rely upon the “ Trade ” for his 
paper, for his ink, for his printing, for his ad- 
vertisements, for his distribution, and for his sales. 
If the “ Trade ” liked him, and liked his paper, 
the public could, to a certain extent, be persuaded 
to like the paper also; on the other hand, if the 
“ Trade ” shook its head over the first number 
of “ You and I,” the unfortunate infant would 
lead but a gasping and choking life of it, and 


HANNIBAL’S BUSY, DAY 113 

might expire before it had had time to outgrow 
the prejudice of that tentacular wet-nurse. 

Many people, especially our American friends, 
imagine that the London of Dickens no longer 
exists — that all the picturesque old houses have 
been swept away, and that with them has gone 
the happy-go-lucky, free-and-easy, hand-to-mouth, 
jolly, irresponsible life of Bohemian London. But 
those who know their London better could take 
a visitor from the other side of the water by the 
hand, and lead him gently to a neighborhood on 
the south side of the Strand known as the Adelphi. 

If you go down John Street, Adelphi, and take 
the second turning on the left, cross the road, and 
stop at a certain house on the right, you will find 
yourself face to face with the house to which the 
great Lord London brought his bride, in which 
the first number of “ You and I ” was born, and 
in which the foundation of that enormous and 
world-famous fortune was laid. 

The staircase is very narrow and rather steep. 
You must pass the first floor, and the second floor. 
There are, in all, scarcely more than a dozen steps 
between the second floor and the third, which will 
give you a rough idea of the height of the rooms 
in this old-world London house. The third floor, 
which, in structure. Is precisely the same to-day 
as it was then, consists of a sitting-room with a 
long casement-window running the whole length 


1 14 LORD LONDON 

of one side of the room, and opening on to the 
parapet. 

It might have been the very room from which 
the unfortunate Bill Sykes attempted to lower him- 
self into the river when his pursuers were at his 
heels, save that the river has now been driven 
farther away by the building of the Embankment. 
The ceiling of this room has to accommodate it- 
self to the peculiarities of the roof, and the roof 
has so many peculiarities that the ceiling is almost 
wholly composed of little nooks and angles and 
cunning corners. 

From this room you pass through a low door- 
way into the bedroom, the conformation of which 
is much the same as that of the sitting-room, with 
the exception of the outlook, which commands a 
splendid and inspiring view of innumerable house- 
tops. Lord London, in those boyish days, often 
gazed at the hundreds and hundreds of little win- 
dows and crooked chimney-stacks; every window 
meant at least one human being, and every chim- 
ney-stack meant a whole group of human beings. 
What were they all thinking about? What were 
their interests? What did they want to know? 
How could he please them? These were the 
questions that he put to himself whenever he 
looked out of that little window, and the re- 
sult is known to all the world. 

Besides the sitting-room and bedroom there 
was also a little room which had been used by 


HANNIBAL’S BUSY DAY 


115 

some previous occupant or series of occupants as 
a kitchen, and there was an alcove In the bed- 
room which, with the aid of a curtain, could easily 
be converted into a bath-room. 

Hannibal would have liked to be even nearer 
to Fleet Street, but small sets of chambers In that 
region are quickly snapped up by young barristers, 
bachelor-journalists, and the other members of 
the great tribe who are all wresting a living out 
of the very heart of London, and Sustaining them- 
selves on the nourishment that is healthier than 
drink, cheaper than food, and always in season. 
The name of it is Hope. 

If Sheila did not like the rooms, they could, of 
course, be changed, but he pictured her planning 
the arrangement of this corner and that corner, 
trying a chair here and a table there, putting up 
her curtains, arranging books on the shelves, and 
adorning the walls with such works of art as they 
would be able to afford. It may be said at once, 
even though we are anticipating matters a little, 
that Sheila quite fell in love with the snug little 
home that Hannibal had found for her. It was 
the first home of her own that she had ever pos- 
sessed, and she found it full of beauty and de- 
light. 

What did It matter to her that there were three 
flights of steps to be climbed, and that the stair- 
way was steep and narrow? What did it matter 
to her that there was room in the kitchen for only 


ii6 


LORD LONDON 


one person at a time, and that that person must 
be careful not to turn too suddenly for fear of a 
collision with the little improvised dresser? What 
did it matter to her that one had to have great care 
of one’s head when one was taking a bath in the 
alcove behind the curtain? Such points as these 
are looked upon as serious discomforts after the 
thirties have been reached: in the twenties, they 
are nothing more than a part of the Great Game, 
and at seventeen it is a delightful joke to upset 
a saucepan with your elbow, or to fall backwards 
into the bath just when you have completely dried 
yourself. 

Hannibal had no sooner discovered and in- 
spected the rooms than he hastened to the office 
of the agent and signed an agreement for twelve 
months. This was on the same day as die inter- 
view at the lawyer’s office and the procuring of 
the marriage license. But his work for that day 
was not yet finished : he had still to tell his mother 
of the changes in his life that he was about to 
make. 

It was Mrs. Quain’s habit to spend an hour in 
Regent’s Park in the cool of the evening. One 
of the boys generally accompanied her, and on this 
evening her companion was Hannibal. Mrs. 
Quain was a little surprised when he offered to 
escort her to the Park, not that he was unfilial, 
but because his feverishly active temperament 
rarely allowed him to sit still for ten minutes with- 


HANNIBAL’S BUSY DAY 117 

out some definite occupation. She soon discov- 
ered from his manner, however, that he would 
not be without occupation on this occasion. 
Neither of them made any remark apart from 
commonplaces until they had found a quiet 
seat, and even then It was some few minutes 
before Hannibal definitely plunged Into the sub- 
ject. 

“ Mother,” he said at last, “ do you ever think 
of the future? ” 

“ I am always thinking of it,” replied Mrs. 
Quain. 

“ Well, what about it. Mother? ” 

“ That is rather a big question, my boy.” 

“ I know it’s a big question. Mother, but that’s 
all the more reason why it must be tackled. 
Would you mind telling me your plans? ” 

“ Well, I’ve been writing letters to some of my 
friends and relations.” 

“ What about? ” 

“ About you boys.” 

“ What about us boys? ” 

“ Well, naturally, I must try to arrange for 
you all. You have managed to make a start for 
yourself, and so you are off my mind. I want 
your Uncle Arthur to take Hasdrubal Into his 
office, and, a little later, I think your Uncle Jack 
might do something for Socrates. The others are 
still too young at present for anything but school. 
How their school bills are to be paid, I don’t 


ii8 


LORD LONDON 


quite see at present, but I have enough money In 
hand to get along for the time being, and I dare- 
say something will happen to make matters easier. 
Those are all the plans that I have been able to 
arrange.” 

“ Something has happened,” said Hannibal, 
quietly. 

Mrs. Quain turned quickly and looked at him. 
He had taken off his hat, and he looked very 
young and fresh with his fair hair falling across 
his forehead. There was an added resolution in 
his face which had not been there until the last 
few days. He had always been quick, impulsive, 
full of energy, full of ideas, independent; but now 
there was a look in his face which gave it firmness, 
stability, as though he had taken a great resolve 
and would carry it through or perish in the at- 
tempt. 

It has been mentioned before that Mrs. Quain 
used to compare him in her mind, half jokingly, 
with the great Napoleon; she suddenly seemed to 
perceive that this comparison might be something 
more than the whimsical tenderness of a devoted 
mother. By contrast with the faces of the men 
and boys who passed and repassed them in the 
Park she could not fail to note, even when an al- 
lowance had been made for maternal prejudices, a 
light in those blue eyes and a strength about that 
mouth and that jaw which betokened a personality 
far above the average. And, at the thought of 


HANNIBAL’S BUSY DAY 


119 

it, a wonderful pride took possession of her. He 
would do something in the world, this fair-haired 
son of hers; she saw in a flash that he was destined 
for great things, and she resolved, whatever hap- 
pened, that she would do all in her power to 
strengthen and aid and encourage him. 

All of us have great thoughts at times, but few 
of us betray them to those who may be with us 
when the thoughts come. It would seem as 
though there was something sacred about a noble 
thought, so that it must be shielded from the 
slightest breath of criticism or misunderstanding 
until it has grown big enough and strong enough 
to be brought from the hiding-place of the brain 
and set in its nakedness before the world. It was 
in a very ordinary tone, therefore, that Mrs. 
Quain replied to Hannibal’s statement that some- 
thing had happened. 

“Has it? What?” 

“ To begin with, I am going to be married.” 

“ Married!” 

“ Yes.” 

“ But I knew nothing of this.” 

“ Didn’t you ? Didn’t you even guess when I 
went off on Saturday? ” 

“No. At least—” 

“ I think you did. Mother. I think you must 
have realized that, if it had been anything else, I 
should have told you about it. I would have told 
you if I had felt that I could tell anybody, but 


120 


LORD LONDON 


I hate people to know about things until they arc 
quite definitely settled.” 

“ It is definitely settled, then? ” 

“ Yes. I am going to be married this week! ” 

“Hannibal!” 

“ I’m afraid it must be rather a shock, but I 
couldn’t tell you anything about It until I knew 
myself, could I? ” 

“ When did you know yourself? ” 

“ This morning.” 

“ But you came back from the country yester- 
day? ” 

“Yes, but it wasn’t definite then. I had to 
find three thousand pounds to start my new pa- 
per.” 

“ Three thousand pounds! For your new pa- 
per! You mustn’t tell me so many things all at 
once unless you want me to have a fit of hysterics 
or something equally foolish. After all, I am 
only a woman and a mother. You must make 
some allowances, Hannibal.” 

So Hannibal gently told her everything — how 
he had been in love with Sheila ever since he 
climbed over the wall one day to recover the 
cricket-ball; how he had made up his mind, when 
his father died, that he must earn enough money 
to keep his mother and his brothers, and to put 
his brothers out into the world; how he had con- 
ceived the Idea of his new paper ; how he had rid- 
den down to Clinton Bagot to secure a helpmate; 


HANNIBAL’S BUSY DAY 


121 


how he had won Sheila, and made a friend of her 
mother, and battled with her father; of the con- 
dition imposed by Mrs. Gillfoyle; of the meeting 
with the rich American by the roadside; of the 
visit to the lawyer’s office that morning; of the 
business of procuring the marriage license; of the 
hunt for and eventual discovery of the quaint lit- 
tle set of chambers. 

When he had finished, Mrs. Quain was silent 
for some minutes. At last she said: 

“ How old is Sheila?” 

“ Seventeen,” said Hannibal. 

“ You asked her, of course, whether she loved 
you?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And she told you that she did? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ She is too young and too innocent to deceive 
you. I only hope that she is not deceiving her- 
self. Still, I have thought, for some years past, 
that marriage is one of the few things that will 
not bear reasoning about. The wisdom of older 
people, when applied to marriage, is often sadly 
misplaced. If I obeyed my impulse, Hannibal, 
I should at once go down to Warwickshire to see 
Sheila for myself, but I shall not do that. You 
have asked her to marry you, she has consented, 
and you have, at least, as good a chance of making 
a success of your married life as any other people 
of whatever age. 


122 


LORD LONDON 


“ I am not rich enough to help you very much 
with your furniture, but whatever can be spared 
from home you must have. Don’t protest, dear. 
Let me do the little that lies in my power at this 
important crisis in your life — far more impor- 
tant than you in your impetuosity can foresee. 
The only other thing I can do is to wish you both 
every happiness, every success, and God-speed. 
. . . Now, my heart is too full to talk any more 
to-night. Let us go back to the house.” 


VII 


YOU AND I 



,HE sitting-room of the little flat in York 


Buildings had undergone a most marvel- 


ous change. Instead of being a quaint, 
empty, and rather dusty garret, it had now become 
the cosiest and cheeriest little office imaginable. 
There were blue curtains drawn back from the old- 
fashioned lattice-windows; there were flowers on 
the broad window-sill, flowers on the mantel-shelf, 
flowers on the top of the book-shelves, flowers 
wherever flowers could be bestowed: every third 
day, indeed, a box of flowers arrived from Clinton 
Bagot Rectory, addressed in the clear if rather 
spiky handwriting of Mrs. Gillfoyle, or the equally 
clear though smaller handwriting of Mr. Gill- 


foyle. 


There were no flowers, however, on the large 
table that occupied the center of the room, for 
that was loaded with all the paraphernalia of 
journal-making. And there were no flowers on 
the little side-table, for that was devoted to a 
typewriting machine and the necessary equipment. 
There was, it is true, a carpet on the floor, and it 
had been chosen to match, as nearly as possible. 


124 


LORD LONDON 


the window-curtains; but a carpet, as Hannibal 
pointed out, was really a superfluity in this room, 
for the floor was already inches deep in all kinds 
of literary litter. 

There were two very comfortable armchairs, 
one on either side of the fireplace; there were some 
good framed prints on the walls; there was an 
editorial armchair for Hannibal; there was an- 
other arm-chair conveniently placed for a visitor; 
that pretty well completed the list of furniture in 
the office-sitting-room. 

Peeping past the curtain that hung over the 
entrance to the bedroom, you would have seen 
a room in strong contrast to the sitting-room. 
Sheila quite understood that, by all the conven- 
tions of journalism, you cannot edit a paper with- 
out making an unholy mess of the room in which 
it is done; she was quite reconciled to that. But 
she was equally firm on insisting that the bedroom 
should not become merged in the office. If Han- 
nibal ventured to leave any of his proofs, or let- 
ters, or manuscripts, lying about in the bedroom, 
they were quickly flung back into the office. This 
was a wise rule for a girl of seventeen to draw 
up; it symbolized, in a way, the necessity of main- 
taining a sharp distinction between the business 
life and the private life. Happy the wife of a 
public man who can maintain this distinction! 

The honeymoon of Mr. and Mrs. Hannibal 
Quain may be regarded as unique; certainly, one 


“ YOU AND I ” 


125 


knows no other instance of a bride and bride- 
groom spending their honeymoon in preparing the 
first number of a new weekly journal. Yet they 
were far happier, it may safely be said, than the 
more conventional couples who hurry away to the 
discomforts of a foreign hotel, or the isolation and 
discomfort of a country cottage, or the staring 
snobbishness of an English watering-place. 

Hannibal was happy because he was in a home 
of his own with Sheila there to share it, his imag- 
ination aglow with the glorious possibilities of the 
future, and his. mind occupied with the enthralling 
work of the present. Sheila was happy because 
she was in a home of her very own, because Han- 
nibal was there to share it, because she was seven- 
teen, and because the whole world, of which as 
yet she knew no evil, smiled upon the seventeen- 
year-old bride. Everything interested them, 
everything amused them. They were amused at 
the gentleman with whom Hannibal had made ar- 
rangements for endeavoring to provide the paper 
with advertisements. They were amused at the 
gentleman who had kindly undertaken to print the 
paper. They were amused at the gentleman who 
was to publish the paper. They were amused at 
the small boys who came from the printer’s of- 
fice with the bundles of proofs. They were 
amused at the postman, who began by grumbling 
bitterly at having to climb so many stairs, but 
who was presently induced to take a keen human 


126 


LORD LONDON 


Interest in the forthcoming journal, and would 
even linger for a moment on his busy round to 
tell Hannibal exactly what to print and what not 
to print. Hannibal learned a lot from that post- 
man. 

They were amused at the old lady from the 
basement, who toiled up to their little flat twice 
a day to wash up, make the bed, dust, sweep, and 
generally put things in order. Most of all, they 
were amused at Mr. Hamm. 

The American was completely satisfied, at pres- 
ent, with his investment. He delicately remained 
away from the office until, as a postscript to a 
business letter, Hannibal requested him to call 
and meet his wife. In two minutes, Mr. Hamm 
had become one of Sheila’s faithful slaves. He 
would call at about three o’clock in the afternoon, 
immaculately dressed in the very height of Lon- 
don fashion. He would leave his beautiful top- 
hat on the mat outside in order that it should not 
take up space required for editorial business. He 
would seat himself quite in the corner, watching 
Hannibal and Sheila as they worked, but carefully 
refraining from speaking one single word unless 
directly addressed. Every now and again, he 
would steal gently from the room, slip noiselessly 
downstairs, and away to the Strand or Covent 
Garden, returning presently with a beautiful bou- 
quet, or a chicken ready for the oven, or a basket 
of fruit, or a cake, or a huge box of chocolates. 


YOU AND I 


127 


or a pound or two of the best sausage (because 
Sheila had once said that she loved sausages). 

Sometimes he would be followed by a boy from 
the fishmonger’s, staggering beneath a huge lump 
of ice for the ice bucket. He had the queerest 
way, too, of discovering in his waistcoat pocket 
a couple of stalls for the theater that he had quite 
overlooked and could not possibly use himself. 
There were never three stalls, for Mr. Hamm, 
though he had had no honeymoon himself, quite 
understood that this experience in life was better 
suited to two people than to three. 

Discovering one day that Sheila was musical, 
he disappeared for at least three hours, and, when 
he returned, was followed by two men carrying 
something that appeared to be fairly heavy up 
those narrow stairs. This, when unpacked, 
proved to be a tiny little piano — so small that 
Sheila roared with laughing over it, and then, 
clapped her hands at it, and then walked round 
it, and then laughed again, and finally felt very 
near to crying because everybody was so good to 
her, especially Hannibal and Mr. Hamm. The 
American explained, with some diffidence, that 
there were larger pianos to be had in London, 
but he didn’t wish to place any undue obstacle in 
the way of the launching of “ You and I.” 

“ But where in the world did you find such a 
thing? ” asked Sheila, taking him into the kitchen 
to help with the preparation of the dinner. 


128 


LORD LONDON 


(When we say “ into the kitchen,” we are not for- 
getting our previous statement that the kitchen 
could not hold more than one person at a time. 
Mr. Hamm stood outside the door, from which 
position he could keep an eye on the sausages 
while Sheila was busy with the frying of pota- 
toes.) 

“ Well,” explained Mr. Hamm, “ it was not 
the easiest thing in the world, Mrs. Quain, to find 
precisely the article of which I was in need. In 
America, my country, when we ask for a thing 
we can confidently expect to be supplied with the 
article for which we have asked, but, in this de- 
lightful country of yours, it is evidently the im- 
pression of ninety-nine storekeepers out of a hun- 
dred that their customers do not really know what 
they do want, and they consequently endeavor to 
sell him something which they consider should be 
better suited to his taste and requirements. I 
went in search of the very smallest piano that Lon- 
don could provide. I was offered a dozen grand 
pianos, three dozen baby-grands, six dozen upright- 
grands, twelve dozen cottage pianos, three spinets, 
a church organ, and a delightful instrument which 
the storekeeper was kind enough to describe as 
an American organ. Putting all these alluring 
articles gently but firmly aside, I went from store 
to store, asking for the smallest piano in London 
— not a doll’s piano, which they were also kind 


“YOU AND I” 129 

enough to offer me, but a piano that could be 
played upon — real tunes. 

“ At last I had the good fortune to hear of a 
store where they kept all kinds of outfit for trav- 
eling comedians, and it was from this store that 
I purchased the very humble little instrument 
which you have been good enough, Mrs. Quain, 
to accept. . . . The third sausage from the end 
looks to me kind of black underneath. Might I 
venture to turn him over with this fork? ” 

Day by day, the first number of the new paper 
drew nearer completion. Hannibal had held 
closely to his original idea, the only trouble being 
that there were at present no letters from readers 
to answer. Everybody the young couple knew, 
therefore, had to be pressed into the service. 
Mr. Gillfoyle wrote asking the age of Sir Walter 
Scott at the time of his death, the length of the 
Box Tunnel, the weight of a million penny postage 
stamps, the distance from the earth to the moon, 
what to do with the green flies off roses if you 
were unwilling to destroy them, and whether it 
was possible to grow spring onions in the au- 
tumn? 

Mrs. Gillfoyle, with a wise eye to Hannibal’s 
business, asked for the address of a first-class 
registry office for servants, of the best place for 
storing furs during the summer, of the best firm 
from whom to buy cutlery, and even whether the 


130 LORD LONDON 

editor could recommend any particular species of 
toilet-soap. 

Hasdrubal, dashing into the fray, asked to be 
supplied with the address of a trustworthy firm 
that thoroughly understood the manufacture of 
air-guns, pistols, and Norwegian fishing-knives. 
He also demanded to be told what was the low- 
est point touched by the thermometer on the cold- 
est day of the year in Iceland, and what was the 
highest price ever given for a remarkably fine 
species of a Belgian hare. 

Socrates, patient and thorough, sent in no less 
than three hundred questions, all of them most 
carefully numbered, and written in copper-plate 
writing on foolscap paper specially procured. 
Most of his questions bore upon abstruse subjects 
connected with the human body, to which the 
Editor replied in a terse note in which he advised 
his correspondent to try the “ British Medical 
Journal.” 

The postman, cheerfully working overtime, 
brought his own questions. He asked to be in- 
formed whether an ordinary postman had ever 
been promoted to the rank of Postmaster-General, 
and, if not, why not. He drew the attention of 
the Editor to the fact that the postal business had 
increased enormously during the past ten years, 
while the number of postmen had not increased 
in proportion. 

Hannibal politely pointed out to him, when 


YOU AND I 


next he called, that this was more in the nature of 
a statement than a query, whereupon the postman 
took it home with him, and redrafted it in the 
following form: Honored Sir, seeing that there 
is a Big Increase in the number of Letters now 
Posted compared with what there was ten years 
ago, would you kindly inform Yours Respectfully 
how many Postmen was employed in the London 
Postal Area ten years ago, and how many there is 
to-day? ” 

Even the housekeeper propounded her little 
queries. Coaxed by Sheila, she confessed to re- 
quiring information on the following points : 

(a) How to scare mice from a house when 

any one don’t like keeping a cat? 

(b) What was the legal penalty for giving a 

servant girl who was a thief, a liar, and 
a slattern, a smart cuff over the head? 

(c) Could anything be done to prevent rude 

boys from calling after respectable la- 
dies when they went out to do a bit of 
shopping ? 

(d) The best way to make use of cold fat 

when it was too good to throw away ? 

(e) Was the bite of a beetle dangerous? If 

so, what was to be done before the doc- 
tor arrived? 

(f) How far was it from England to Austra- 

lia, and, if any respectable person had a 
son in Australia that they wanted very 


132 


LORD LONDON 


much to see, but could not afford the 
fare, would the Government make a 
grant towards supplying a return pas- 
sage in the steerage? 

The wrapper for the paper was a matter for 
serious consideration. Sheila thought that a pink 
wrapper decorated with blue forget-me-nots would 
be rather sweet, but Hannibal pointed out that 
any penny paper which endeavored to give its 
readers a wrapper printed in two colors would 
soon find itself in Queer Street. In delivering 
this statement, he unconsciously assumed the tone 
and attitude of the great Sir Albert Curtain, who 
had once replied in like manner to a brilliant sug- 
gestion coming from Hannibal himself. 

Mr. Hamm wanted green, but Hannibal re- 
minded him that this would be a flagrant imitation 
of a successful journal already in existence. Han- 
nibal himself was for a deep orange, but the whole 
question was eventually settled by the printer, who 
proved, in two minutes, with the aid of a very 
small piece of paper picked from the floor and 
a very short, stumpy pencil, that the cost of a col- 
ored wrapper would so far exceed the sum which 
Hannibal had decided to expend on paper and 
printing that it was quite out of the question to 
have one at all. Reluctantly, therefore, the first 
number was issued without a wrapper. 

The first number was issued ! Stated like that, 
it all sounds simple and straightforward enough. 


“ YOU AND I ” 


133 


but, oh, the hopes and fears, the doubts and anxi- 
eties, the lying awake at night trying to hit upon 
something that would at once arrest the attention 
and fasten upon the imagination of the public! 
That was what was wanted, as Hannibal knew well 
enough — something to seize upon the imagina- 
tion of the public. It was all very well for Sheila 
to attempt to console him by reminding him that 
the paper was unique ; that there had never before 
been a paper entirely devoted to answering the 
queries of correspondents. Hannibal admitted 
all that, but he knew, right inside the one little 
brain-cell in which his genius for journalism was 
harbored, that uniqueness was not in itself enough. 
Anybody could devise an unique journal; a journal 
printed in green on black paper would be unique, 
but the public would not buy it. 

No, there was something to be done to make 
a success of “ You and I,” but he could not think 
of it. He had not enough money to indulge in 
the luxury of huge posters on the walls, or full- 
page advertisements in the daily papers. True, 
on the day of publication he had an almost contin- 
uous chain of men, with copies of “ You and I ” 
in their hands for sale, from Piccadilly Circus to 
St. Paul’s Cathedral. That was all right in its 
way, but any fool could have thought of that. 
What he wanted was something bigger, something 
more human, something more daring, something 
that would make the editor of every other popular 


134 


LORD LONDON 


paper in London gnash his teeth with rage be- 
cause he had not thought of it himself. 

“ If only I could think of it! ” he exclaimed, 
walking to and fro, to and fro, on the eve of pub- 
lication. 

“ Don’t worry yourself any more about the 
matter, dear,” replied Sheila. “ You’ve done 
your level best, and, if the people don’t like it, 
it simply shows what a lot of fools they must be.” 

“ Fools ! Of course they’re fools 1 I don’t 
blame them for that! If there were no fools in 
the world, d’you suppose that I should be troub- 
ling my head to bring out a paper of this sort at 
all? The more fools the better! But what I 
want to get hold of is something that will make 
every fool in the kingdom, and every clever per- 
son as well, rub his eyes with surprise when he 
sees my placard. Yes, I’ve got as far as that: 
it’s a line on a placard that I want; that’s all, and 
I can’t think of it! I can’t think of it! ” 

“ Sit down and have your dinner,” urged Sheila. 
“It’s sure to come to you — ^everything does; 
you know that.” 

“ Yes, but the pity of it is that it hasn’t come 
in time for the first number.” 

“ Probably you will get the idea before you 
bring out the second number.” 

“ That won’t do. If you don’t hit them be- 
tv'een the eyes in your first number, you might as 
well throw up the sponge at once, unless you’ve 


“ YOU AND I ” 


135 


got unlimited capital at your back. I shall never 
forgive myself for not getting that idea in time 
for the first number ! ” 

He tried to eat the nice little dinner that she 
had cooked for him, but how could a man sit still 
and eat under such circumstances? As Hannibal 
saw it at the moment, and as any other boy of his 
age would have seen it, his whole career depended 
on his single throw. If the public took to his 
paper, well and good; that was almost too glori- 
ous for thought! If the public did not take to 
his paper, the three thousand pounds would be 
rapidly exhausted, and where would he find an- 
other good fairy like Mr. Hamm? He knew 
that there are plenty of men who will back a man 
who has yet to make his mark, but how many men 
are there who will back a man who has had his 
chance and made a failure of it? 

For the thousandth time, he took up the first 
number of “ You and I ” and turned the pages 
one by one. 

“ I’ll tell you what it is,” he said. “ It’s mo- 
notonous.” 

“ Rubbish ! ” 

“Yes, it is; it’s monotonous — beastly monot- 
onous. Just look at all these rotten questions and 
all the rotten answers ! A child could see that the 
questions were faked! Besides, the public must 
jump to it that we had to fake the questions! 
It’s all as wrong as it can he! Tell me quite 


136 


LORD LONDON 


frankly — would you pay a penny for It your- 
self? ” 

“Yes, of course I would! Why, the answers 
to the questions on Cookery alone are worth a 
penny I ” 

“ Yes, but they’re all out of Mrs. Beeton! ” 

“ My dear boy, all the answers are out of some 
book or other.” 

“ I know. That’s just it! That’s what makes 
it so dull! ” 

Dull ! ” cried Sheila, who now began to feel 
so depressed about the whole thing that she could 
easily have flung herself on the bed and burst into 
tears. “ I won’t hear you say a word against the 
paper, Han! There’s not a dull line in it! If 
we begin to think it’s dull. It’ll soon get dull, and 
that will be the end of it. Say it’s not dull ! Do, 
darling ! Do say it’s not dull ! I — I shall 
really have to cry if you say it’s dull after — after 
all the work we’ve done ! ” 

Hannibal jumped up, put his arms about her, 
and kissed her passionately. 

“No,” he said, “it isn’t dull, my beautiful! 
Besides, I don’t care if it is! Hang the paper! 
Hang the public! Hang everybody and every- 
thing! We’ve been sitting up here too long. 
Let’s go for a walk.” 

Sheila was ready In a trice. “ Which way shall 
we go? ” she asked, looking very sweet and pretty 
In her demure little bonnet. 


“ YOU AND I ” 


137 


“ To the printer’s,” said Hannibal, promptly. 

Sheila laughed. It was so like him to hang 
the paper and the public, and then go straight off 
to the printer’s. Her spirits returned as they 
stumbled down the narrow stairway arm-in-arm, 
and she felt quite gay when they climbed to the 
top of the ’bus that would take them to the print- 
er’s. 

As they went along, Hannibal scrutinized the 
public. 

“ Look at all these people, Sheila ! Do you 
suppose they care a rap about my new paper? 
Do you suppose any single one of them even 
thinks that the first number of ‘You and I ’ is 
to be published to-morrow ? If they do know, do 
they care ? Just look at them as they walk along. 
Look at that chap gazing into the eyes of his girl ; 
is he telling her to be sure and buy a copy of ‘ You 
and I ’ to-morrow? ” 

“ He might be.” 

“ You little humbug. You know very well that 
he’s doing nothing of the sort. He may be tell- 
ing her how pretty she is, or how glad he is that 
she was able to come out with him, or be trying 
to persuade her to come out to-morrow night, 
but he’s certainly not caring a rap about our new 
paper. And that’s just what we’ve got to bear in 
mind always : the people don’t want us — we want 
them. They can get along very well without us 
— we can’t get along at all without them. The 


LORD LONDON 


138 

only way to get hold of them is to get right inside 
their lives, so that our paper is as much a part of 
their lives as the boots they put on in the morn- 
ing, or the dinner they eat, or the pillow they put 
their heads on at night. If we can do that, we 
can make such a success as has never been made 
before in this country or even dreamed of 1 ” 

“ You will,” said Sheila, simply. 

“ Do you really think I shall? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“ Can’t tell you why. I just know it.” And 
Sheila did know it. 

Hannibal, of course, was accustomed to print- 
ing-works, but to Sheila it was all quite new and 
amazing. The noise deafened her, and the vast 
tangle of hungry machines bewildered her. She 
thought, at first, that they were all printing “ You 
and I,” but Hannibal soon undeceived her on this 
point. However, they did at last discover the 
machine which was devoted this evening to their 
own little paper. The quiet and almost insolent 
demeanor of the man who was minding it came as 
a shock to Sheila. He would take up a large 
sheet, look at it, and crumple it up and throw it 
away as though there had been no care, and 
thought, and even anguish spent upon it. The 
other men were just as unmoved : they came and 
went about their business, pale, with shirt-sleeves 
rolled up, some of them wearing dirty aprons. 


“ YOU AND I ” 


139 


some of them with smudges upon their noses, but 
all quite indifferent to the fate of poor little “ You 
and I,” which was to be born on the morrow. 

If it failed, as many a weekly journal printed 
beneath that roof had failed, what cared they? 
There were plenty of other idiots eager to waste 
their money on bringing out new papers. So long 
as the machines were never silent, so long as the 
furnaces were never out, so long as the wages 
were paid every Saturday, it did not matter a 
straw to these men which papers lived or died, 
what hearts were broken, what fortunes were lost, 
which editor went to the asylum, or which to the 
workhouse, or which to prison, or which to the 
grave. Stroke the fires! Trundle the big rolls 
of paper! Cut, and fold, and bind, and pack, 
and shoot them into the carts; and the evening 
and the morning made the next day. 

No wonder Hannibal and his baby wife felt 
very small and insignificant as they stood there 
amid the crash and rattle of the printing-ma- 
chines ! 

They had been watching their own particular 
machine for some ten minutes or so when Mr. 
Dodd, the manager, came along. It was nice to 
see his friendly, familiar face amid those of so 
many strangers, and Hannibal was cheered by the 
sight. Mr. Dodd smiled, and raised his hard 
felt hat to Sheila, and shook hands with Hannibal, 
all as though it was the easiest thing in the world 


140 


LORD LONDON 


to bring out a weekly paper and sell huge quanti- 
ties of it to the public. 

“ Just been on the ’phone to Mr. Halliday,” 
said Mr. Dodd. 

Mr. Halliday was Hannibal’s publisher. 

“ Yes,” replied Hannibal, trying manfully to 
keep hfs voice quite steady. 

“You’ve seen him this evening, Mr. Quain?” 

“ Not since three o’clock this afternoon. Any- 
thing fresh? ” 

“ Yes. I shall have to put on another ma- 
chine.” 

“ What! ” cried Hannibal and Sheila together. 

“ Tells me he’s got repeats from Glasgow, 
Newcastle, Cardiff, and one or two other places. 
Silly fools ! Why couldn’t they make up their 
minds before? ” 

Mr. Dodd moved away to give the necessary 
instructions to his foreman. Hannibal and Sheila 
looked at each other. Their cheeks had suddenly 
become flushed, and their eyes sparkling, and their 
breathing quicker. Then Sheila, quite regard- 
less of the men with pale faces and dirty aprons, 
seized one of Hannibal’s hands and gave it a tre- 
mendous squeeze. 

“Oh, how lovely!^’ she shouted through the 
din. “ It’s going to be a success, Han ! I knew 
it would! I’ve felt it all along! ” 

“ Too soon to say that,” observed the wise 
Hannibal. 


YOU AND I 


“ Not a bit of it! Just think — Glasgow, Liv- 
erpool, Cardiff! Fancy those places such a long 
way off all sending for more copies ! Isn’t it won- 
derful? ” 

“ First numbers always sell well,” Hannibal 
told her, with the air of a weary and experienced 
and long-established proprietor of journals. 
“ Wait till we get to our second and third num- 
bers; that will be the test.” 

None the less, he went to bed far more sanguine 
than he had been for the past month. There was 
something definite and substantial, at any rate, 
about repeat orders from the “ Trade.” It 
showed that there actually were people prepared 
to take some sort of an interest in his venture. 
His little paper would not be stillborn. Within 
a few hours, some thousands of copies of “ You 
and I ” would be distributed over the length and 
breadth of the land. He had become accustomed, 
of course, to see copies of the “ Boy’s Chum ” on 
bookstalls and in newsagents’ shops, but this was 
a very different feeling. The “ Boy’s Chum ” 
had been issued from the great and influential 
office of the “ London Weekly Album,” and had 
the money and the authority of the great Sir Al- 
bert Curtain behind it. “ You and I ” came from 
a humble little garret in York Buildings, Adelphi. 
It was the outcome of his own brain, his own en- 
ergy, his own work. 

True, he had had Mr. Hamm’s three thousand 


142 


LORD LONDON 


pounds to help him, but what was three thousand 
pounds with which to float a new paper? He 
knew very well, and had known from the start, 
that nothing but an instantaneous success could 
make it possible for him to continue on that capi- 
tal. If he scored an instantaneous success, Mr. 
Hamm would reap a harvest entirely out of pro- 
portion to the small sum invested. Hannibal was 
not jealous of Mr. Hamm; he was quite prepared 
to share with him equally according to the strict 
letter of the agreement; but he did feel, as he 
went to bed that night, that one might have to pay 
very dearly for one’s capital. 


VIII 


THE GREAT IDEA 

HE first number of “ You and I ” sold 



quite well — not phenomenally well by 


any means, but quite satisfactorily. 
Sheila was in the seventh heaven of delight. She 
went about on dancing feet, her eyes all alight, 
her face a posy of dimpling smiles. She had 
secret dreams of a beautiful house in the country, 
with a lovely old garden, and a pony and trap of 
her own. She buckled to on the third number — 
the second number was complete before the first 
was published — with tremendous zest. Her lit- 
tle fingers flew like lightning here and there among 
the great books of reference. She was getting 
so used to them that she could find the answer 
to any question, that was not too impossible, in a 
minute. Her ready brain and sanguine tempera- 
ment were of enormous value to Hannibal in those 
early days. He would be the first to acknowledge 
it; indeed, had he not foreseen it all along? 

As for Hannibal himself, he was naturally 
pleased that the first number had sold well, but 
he repeatedly reminded himself, as he had told 


144 


LORD LONDON 


Sheila at the printer’s, that all first numbers sold 
well. He could remember a conversation with a 
wild acquaintance of his earliest days on the 
“ Boy’s Chum,” who had a great scheme for bring- 
ing out an entirely new paper once a week, and 
never to attempt to get beyond the first number. 
So Hannibal, too, worked away with a zest at the 
third number, but put away his secret dreams of a 
great fortune. He knew what Sheila did not 
know, namely, that there was very little left of the 
three thousand pounds after paying for the ad- 
vertisements, and the printer’s bill, and the vari- 
ous other expenses. There was something to 
come back, of course, but his own advertising 
pages were ruefully blank until filled at the last 
moment with extra editorial matter or “ dummy ” 

advertisements that is to say, advertisements 

inserted for nothing as a decoy for other adver- 
tisers. 

With the second number, a check was put to 
Sheila’s splendid rapture. The sales of the sec- 
ond number dropped to less than half the sales of 
the first. It was pitiful to note the gradual dis- 
appearance of the dimples — they did not all van- 
ish, but at least half of them went — in exact pro- 
portion to the decrease in circulation. The little 
fingers still flew busily in and out of the books of 
reference, but the answer would not come quite so 
quickly, and the books seemed rather heavy to lift. 

Hannibal worked on. He was beginning to 


THE GREAT IDEA 


145 


look pale from want of fresh air and want of 
sleep. Such exercise as he got nowadays was 
taken at night, when he would pace up and down 
the Embankment searching for that Great Idea. 
He searched for it in the sky, and he searched for 
it in the water, and he searched for it in the faces 
of the miserable human beings huddled on the 
seats, and he searched for it in the outline of the 
Houses of Parliament, and he searched for it on 
the distant dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral, and he 
searched for it in the great sullen barges that were 
anchored in midstream. 

With the third number, the sales again dropped. 
At this rate, the three thousand pounds would be 
gone long before the end of three months. Mr. 
Halliday, the publisher, did not take the trouble 
to come to York Buildings to see Hannibal on the 
matter; he sent a small boy with a rather dirty 
note, curtly requesting Hannibal to come and see 
him. Hannibal detected insolence in the note, 
and insolence in the messenger; in all probability, 
he imagined this insolence, for, when things are 
going wrong, it is easy to find enmity and mock- 
ery in the very paving-stones. However, he 
swallowed his pride, and called upon Mr. Halli- 
day. 

“ Well, young man,” said Mr. Halliday. 

“ Well, Mr. Halliday,” said Hannibal. 

“ Your paper doesn’t seem to have struck the 
'public all of a heap?” 


146 


LORD LONDON 


“ Did you ever hear of a prize-fight which was 
won in three blows?” retorted Hannibal. 

“ No,” said Mr. Halliday, “ but a man who is 
going to win a prize-fight must hit hard all through 
the first round.” 

” Any fool can do that,” replied Hannibal. 
“ A clever fighter would have something in re- 
serve.” 

“ If he kept it in reserve too long, Mr. Quain, 
he might be knocked out before he had time to 
make use of it.” 

“ Would that be for him to decide or his 
trainer? ” asked Hannibal. 

“ It would depend on how much he knew, and 
what the trick was worth.” 

Hannibal was perfectly aware that Mr. Halli- 
day was trying to find out how much capital there 
still remained to the account of “ You and I.” 
He knew, also, that this information must be 
withheld from Mr. Halliday. It would not be 
at all good for Mr. Halliday’s health to realize 
just how little money there was to Hannibal’s 
name at the bank. Mr. Halliday might lie awake 
and worry, and that would be a pity. He left 
the publisher, therefore, with the impression that 
there was a wonderful card to play when the right 
moment came. After all, he might still draw that 
card. Any night, as he paced the Embankment, 
up and down, up and down, up and down, the 
Great Idea might come to him. 


THE GREAT IDEA 


147 


The fourth number of “ You and I ” came out, 
and the fifth, and the sixth. Hannibal did not 
tell Sheila how many copies of the sixth number 
had been sold, nor did she inquire. It was pa- 
thetic to note the difference between the Mr. and 
Mrs. Hannibal Quain now working away in 
gloomy silence at the little paper that nobody 
seemed to want, and the bright, clever, eager, 
smiling, sanguine boy and girl who had feasted 
so merrily with Mr. Hamm only a few weeks ago. 

Mr. Hamm’s visits to the little flat in York 
Buildings had almost ceased. He knew only too 
well how things were going, and, while he was 
sportsman enough not to begrudge the loss of his 
three thousand pounds, he was also man of busi- 
ness enough to realize that it was of no use throw- 
ing good money after bad. He would have liked 
to help the young couple personally; he would 
have liked to send them to the seaside for a month, 
or for a trip across the Atlantic, or to the little 
shooting-box that he owned in Scotland. He 
knew very well, however, that they were too in- 
dependent in mind to accept any such offer. Once 
a week or so, he just mounted the stairs, popped 
his head in at the door, and gave them a cheery 
word or two. He never asked how things were 
going, and he never stayed to lunch or dinner. 
His kindly heart ached to think that perhaps they 
were even denying themselves the necessary quan- 
tity or quality of food. 


148 LORD LONDON 

Mr. and Mrs. Gillfoyle knew nothing of these 
struggles. The honeymoon was still barely over 
if one allowed a honeymoon to last more than the 
conventional month, and, though Mrs. Gillfoyle 
was naturally anxious to see her daughter and her 
daughter’s home, she would not as yet intrude 
upon them. Every week a copy of “ You and 
I ” was delivered at the Rectory, addressed in 
Sheila’s handwriting. Mr. Gillfoyle was de- 
lighted to find all his questions duly answered, 
and spent many happy hours concocting long lists 
of fresh “ puzzlers,” as he called them. The 
good people never suspected for one moment that 
the little paper was almost at its last gasp. There 
is something about the printed word which, to the 
ordinary mind, is solid and permanent; Mr. and 
Mrs. Gillfoyle, as they watched the small pile of 
the copies of “ You and I ” grow higher and 
higher, would have said, at a rough guess, that 
the paper was now as firmly established as the 
“ Times.” 

Mrs. Quain had her suspicions, but she would 
not harass her son by asking to have these sus- 
picions confirmed. She had the greatest faith in 
Hannibal, and she told herself that, if the worst 
came to the worst, and the paper failed to sur- 
vive, Hannibal would be sure to think of some- 
thing else. 

In this she was probably right, but Hannibal 
was determined that the paper should survive. 


THE GREAT IDEA 


149 


Sheila, to tell the truth, had lost faith in it; she 
would not have confessed as much to Hannibal 
for worlds, but when he was keeping his lonely 
vigil on the Embankment — ■ for he preferred to 
go alone — she would shed many and many a 
silent tear. 

One morning, the morning upon which the sixth 
number of the paper came out, a telegram came 
from Mr. Hamm requesting Hannibal to call upon 
him at the Albany. Hannibal did not show the 
telegram to Sheila. He knew well enough what 
it was that Mr. Hamm had to discuss, for, by that 
morning’s post, he had heard from their banker 
that the account was overdrawn. 

The grave manservant, who had apparently 
succeeded in once more making his master afraid 
of him — at any rate, he still retained his situa- 
tion — showed Hannibal into the luxurious sit- 
ting-room, handed him a cigarette, a copy of “ You 
and I,” and informed him that Mr. Hamm would 
be with him as soon as he had dismissed his bar- 
ber. 

“ Do you ever read this paper? ” asked Hanni- 
bal. 

“ Well, yes, sir. I’ve glanced through it once or 
twice.” 

“Do you like it?” 

“ No, sir, I can’t say that I like it.” 

“Why not?” 


LORD LONDON 


150 

“ It doesn’t appeal to me, sir.” 

“ Why doesn’t it appeal to you? ” 

“ There’s too much information in it, sir, for 
my taste.” 

“ Don’t you like information? ” 

“ No, sir. Information is all very well for 
those who have no desire to think for themselves. 
If I filled my brain with information, such as how 
to grow spring onions in the autumn, or how to 
cure the bite of a beetle, my brain would be so 
clogged up, so to speak, that it wouldn’t be able 
to turn round. I may be wrong, sir, but it has al- 
ways seemed to me that, if the brain doesn’t turn 
round, it can’t develop, and, if it can’t develop, 
it can’t get beyond the point that it has already 
reached. For that reason, sir, I am always very 
willing to impart information, and very unwilling 
to receive it. . . . Can I get you anything fur- 
ther, sir? ” 

“ No, thanks,” said Hannibal. 

This man’s point of view, he saw, was quite rea- 
sonable. He had probably made the mistake of 
thinking that the public wanted to acquire infor- 
mation, whereas, or so it would seem, they wanted 
nothing of the sort. They wanted to use such 
brains as they possessed: was that it? No. That 
could not be the solution of the difficulty, for the 
desire to use one’s brains is a sign of mental en- 
ergy, and Hannibal was quite convinced that very 
few people have sufficient mental energy to carry 


THE GREAT IDEA 


151 

them through the ordinary labors of an ordinary 
day, much less an excess of mental energy to be 
expended after the work of the day is over, on 
mere thought Yet they wanted something differ- 
ent — that was quite clear. What weakness was 
it in them to which he must pander in order to 
succeed? Vanity? Avarice? Fear? Sentimen- 
tality ? 

Mr. Hamm, cool, sleek, exceedingly well- 
groomed, entered whilst Hannibal was still deep 
in his problem. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Quain.” 

“ Good morning.” 

They shook hands — energetically but not 
warmly. Mr. Hamm, was, if anything, the more 
nervous of the two. 

“ I took the liberty, Mr. Quain, of sending you 
a telegram.” 

“ Yes.” 

” I presume, Mr. Quain, you received a certain 
intimation this morning from the Bank? ” 

“ I did.” 

“ Well, I cannot tell you, Mr. Quain, how more 
than sorry I was to receive that intimation — not 
sorry for myself, but real sorry for you. I am 
not in the habit, Mr. Quain, of scattering orchids 
over the heads of my friends, but I do wish to say 
that, in my opinion, you have produced a rattling, 
bang-up, thundering smart little paper, and it just 
beats me crazy why it is the public have not re- 


152 


LORD LONDON 


sponded to your call in the way that we hoped. 
Had your journal appeared in the States, Mr. 
Quain, where there is a very large public for any 
periodical with fresh ideas and strong brains be- 
hind it, I can promise you that it would have met 
with a very different reception. However, that’s 
neither here nor there. What we’ve got to do 
is to sit right down now and face this thing out.” 

“ Yes,” said Hannibal. 

“ You will remember the terms of our contract, 
Mr. Quain? ” 

“ Perfectly.” 

“ By that contract, I was free to withdraw from 
this undertaking when the capital that I put up 
had been exhausted.” 

“ That is quite correct.” 

“ Or I was at liberty to retain my half-interest 
by providing more capital.” 

“Quite so. But — ” 

“ Hold on a minute, Mr. Quain. If you will 
allow me, I would just like to say what I have in 
my mind to say, and then I shall be at liberty to 
hear any comments that you may care to make 
upon my remarks. Now, Mr. Quain, as I have 
told you, I think a very great deal of your little 
paper. It is new, it is original, it is human, it 
touches on an extraordinary variety of topics, and 
it is my firm conviction that it should have been 
a very big success. But the public, Mr. Quain, 
is a curious element. I don’t myself believe that 


THE GREAT IDEA 


153 


there is any man in this country, or in any other 
country, however intelligent and experienced, who 
could say with certainty how the public is going 
to think about any mortal thing on this earth. 
The only way to find out what the public wants 
is to offer it something and note the result. Well, 
Mr. Quain, hard as it may seem to you. I’m 
afraid the public, for some reason or another, 
does not want your paper. We can’t deceive 
ourselves by saying that it isn’t sufficiently known; 
a very large number of the public bought the 
first number, half of those people abstained from 
buying the second number, and the rest have grad- 
ually left off buying it. We must now face these 
facts. 

“ Now, Mr. Quain, the failure of your paper — 
if you will allow me for one moment to use that 
unpleasant word — does not, to my mind, reflect 
in the slightest degree on your ability, or on the 
ability of the very charming little lady who has 
rendered you such splendid assistance, and whose 
notes on ‘ Cookery ’ are marvels of lucidity and 
salubrity. I have unshaken confidence in you both, 
and I asked you to come and see me this morning 
in order that I might lay before you the following 
suggestion : 

“ Accept the verdict of the public, Mr. Quain, 
with regard to ‘You and I.’ Wind up the affairs 
of that brilliant but unfortunate publication as soon 
as possible, and then think of something else 


154 


LORD LONDON 


equally original, bring it to me, and, if I am taken 
with it, as I feel sure I shall be, I shall have the 
very greatest pleasure, and it will be a great honor 
to me, and a source of considerable interest, to 
provide you with a further sum of a similar 
amount to the last. That’s what I wanted to say, 
Mr. Quain. What is your reply? ” 

Hannibal looked out of the window. The 
measured words of the American had fallen upon 
his heart with the weight of small bullets. He 
had known, directly he received Mr. Hamm’s tele- 
gram, what he was to hear, but he had scarcely 
expected to be told, in that downright fashion, 
that his paper was a failure. Mr. Hamm was 
accustomed to failure in the world of sport; but 
Hannibal was accustomed to success in everything 
that he touched, and it was bitter in the extreme 
to be told to admit to failure. He was mortified, 
and, with anybody else, would have been very an- 
gry. But it was impossible to be angry with Mr. 
Hamm. He was evidently so sincere in his 
admiration of the abilities of Hannibal himself 
and of Sheila, so sincere a friend, and so generous 
a supporter, that Hannibal’s mortification was 
tempered with a feeling of deep affection that 
threatened to bring the tears to his eyes. After 
all, he was only nineteen, he had worked desper- 
ately hard, he was suffering from loss of sleep and 
loss of fresh air; he had nothing to sustain him 
but his confidence in himself and his love for 


THE GREAT IDEA 


155 


Sheila. Fortunately, these were sufficient to en- 
able him after a very brief pause to face the Amer- 
ican with a manner as perfectly composed as 
usual. 

“ It’s awfully good of you,” said Hannibal, 
simply, “ but I can’t accept your offer.” 

“ Don’t be in too much of a hurry to say that, 
Mr. Quain. Why not take a little longer to think 
it over? ” 

“ I have thought it over. There are two rea- 
sons, Mr. Hamm, why I can’t accept your offer. 
The first is that I couldn’t possibly allow you to 
risk any more of your money on any enterprise 
of mine.” 

“ Now, see here — ” 

“Wait a minute, please. I came here this 
morning quite determined to say that. You’ve 
done already a great deal more than I could pos- 
sibly have expected; that goes without saying. 
It is useless for me to tell you, now that your 
money has gone, how deeply sorry I am that this 
should have happened, but, if I ever succeed at 
all, as I am quite certain I shall succeed, every 
farthing of that money will be repaid. Please let 
me finish! The other reason why I cannot ac- 
cept your offer is because I am going on with the 
publication of ‘ You and I.’ You may think me 
quite mad, but I have a feeling, which I cannot 
explain even to myself, that I shall yet pull my 
little paper out of the fire. The capital is ex- 


156 


LORD LONDON 


hausted, but I have still some credit left, and the 
biggest firms in the world depend, to a very large 
extent, on their credit. Those are my reasons, 
Mr. Hamm, and I am sure you will understand 
and appreciate them.” 

Hannibal rose and held out his hand. Mr. 
Hamm grasped it, and there was now all the 
warmth in the grip of the two men that had been 
lacking at the beginning of the interview. 

“ Mr. Quain,” said the American, “ I am cer- 
tain as you are that you will eventually make a 
very big success. You have splendid qualities, sir, 
qualities that should carry you right to the top. 
It isn’t for me to say anything further with regard 
to my own opinion of the business possibilities of 
your paper. I can see that you are determined 
to carry on to the last moment, and I admire your 
pluck, and wish you a magnificent success. I have 
backed out, and you mustn’t, therefore, think for 
one moment of making me any repayment. I have 
had my gamble, and I have enjoyed it — especially 
the many pleasant hours I have passed at your 
home, the recollection of which I shall always 
cherish In my memory. Should you change your 
mind about my new proposition, please let me 
know without delay. If I am still in the financial 
position which I enjoy to-day, if your delightful 
fellow-countrymen have allowed me to retain the 
requisite amount of hard cash, you will find that 
the offer still holds good.” 


THE GREAT IDEA 


157 


Hannibal was now In the last ditch. He did not 
tell Sheila of his interview with Mr. Hamm : that 
was unnecessary. He tried very hard to take 
a bright and optimistic face back to the office, but 
Sheila was not deceived. Very wisely, she asked 
nothing. They both worked away doggedly for 
the rest of that day, not stopping to wonder 
whether the fruits of their labors would ever reach 
the outer world. It was ten o’clock before the 
last proof was read and the last batch of new 
copy was ready for the printer. Sheila then laid 
supper, and they talked on indifferent topics while 
they pretended to eat it. 

At eleven o’clock, although it was raining 
slightly, Hannibal, In accordance with his usual 
custom, went out. The nights were getting chilly 
now, and Sheila made him put on an overcoat. It 
was a coat suitable for the hour and the weather, 
for it had long seen its best days. With the collar 
turned up, and a cap on his head, and his hands 
thrust deep into his pockets, Hannibal looked very 
much like the unfortunate people who were con- 
gregated beneath the bridge of Charing Cross 
railway station. 

He walked along the Embankment, on the river 
side, as far as Blackfriars Bridge; then, turning, 
he proceeded to walk to Westminster Bridge. He 
was still feeling, although it was almost mechan- 
ically now, for the Great Idea that would not come. 
He was still searching for it in the sky, and In 


158 


LORD LONDON 


the water, and In the faces of the people huddled 
on the seats, and In the outline of the Houses of 
Parliament, and In the silent barges that tugged 
moodily at their anchors In midstream. 

Presently his attention was caught by the face 
of a man seated In the corner of a bench midway 
between Hungerford and Westminster Bridges. 
He was a man about forty years of age, clean- 
shaven, save for the usual three or four days’ 
beard. He was not asleep, or even In the somno- 
lent condition that Is habitual with the Embank- 
ment loafer; he looked keenly at Hannibal, just 
as Hannibal looked keenly at him; each recognized 
the other as a man of breeding and education. 
Hannibal had often heard that such men were to 
be found on the Embankment at night, but he had 
never seen one before, and was beginning to look 
upon the story as the usual fable of the Imag- 
inative journalist. There was no doubt, however, 
about this man, and Hannibal was seized with a 
desire to learn something of his history. How 
was It that a man of his own class could sink to 
becoming a night-loafer on the Embankment? 
Was It drink? No; he had not at all the appear- 
ance of a man who had been dragged down by 
drink. Was It poverty? Yes, of course, but 
why should a man with brains and reasonable 
health be utterly destitute? Was It sheer lazi- 
ness? Surely there must be something abnormal 
about a man who preferred this wretched slinking 


THE GREAT IDEA 


159 


existence to the small amount of work that would 
have sufficed to keep him in moderate comfort, 
cleanliness, and respectability. 

Hannibal turned at Westminster Bridge, and 
walked once more in the direction of Blackfriars. 
He was trying to summon up his courage to take 
the other end of the seat and get into conversa- 
tion with the stranger. As he drew near, how- 
ever, the stranger himself broke the ice by saying, 
in tones that must have been at one time quite 
cultivated, but had now become coarsened, partly 
by the life he led, and partly by the wish and very 
natural desire to avoid any suggestion of superi- 
ority to those with whom he mixed, “ Got a fag? ” 

“ Certainly,” said Hannibal, at once stopping 
and taking his case from his pocket. 

The stranger took a cigarette from the case 
with the air of one who had often done the same 
thing before. “Got a match?” 

Hannibal took out his silver match-box, stnick 
a match, and held the flame so that the stranger 
might light his cigarette. The other accepted 
the civility quite as a matter of course. Hannibal 
now seated himself in the opposite corner of the 
bench, and also lit a cigarette. The stranger 
smiled — a smile that was three-parts cynicism and 
one-part humor. 

“ A couple of drinks,” he said, “ and we might 
be in the club.” 

“ Yes,” agreed Hannibal, trying to speak as 


i6o LORD LONDON 

though there was nothing out of the ordinary in 
the situation. 

“Journalist?” asked the stranger, calmly. 

“ Yes,” said Hannibal, rather startled. “ How 
did you guess? ” 

“ Easy enough. You’re not hard up or you 
wouldn’t be carrying a silver cigarette-case and a 
silver match-box. You’ve got gloves on, too ; that 
means prosperity. Hope they’re paying you well 
for this job; It’s worth it on a night like this.” 

“ Oh, I’m not collecting copy. I come out here 
at night because it helps me to think.” 

“Think? What about?” 

“ Well, just at present, I’m trying to think of 
something to put on the bill of a weekly paper 
that’ll startle everybody In the kingdom.” 

“ Very difficult,” said the stranger. 

“ Very.” 

“ What paper is it? ” 

“ A little paper called ‘ You and L’ It’s a 
new paper,” explained Hannibal, modestly. 

“ I’ve seen it,” said the stranger. 

“Have you?” Hannibal was frankly de- 
lighted. Here, at any rate, was one member of 
the public who had heard of his paper. 

“ Yes. I was one of the men selling the first 
number.” 

“ Great Scott! ” 

“ Anything funny in that? ” 


THE GREAT IDEA 


i6i 


“ Well, no, I suppose not. I — I didn’t notice 
you; that’s all.” 

The stranger laughed. “ Well, seeing there 
were about a thousand of us, I don’t suppose you 
would. Are you the Editor of the paper? ” 

“ Yes, I’m the Editor.” 

“ You needn’t tell your boss, but I did him 
for fwo-and-ninepence that day.” 

“ Oh, you did, did you ? ” 

“ Yes,” drawled the stranger, carelessly. “ You 
can give me in charge if you like. It isn’t so easy 
to get a dry bed for the night, I can tell you.” 

“ Do you really mean that you wouldn’t mind 
being locked up? ” 

The stranger laughed again. “ That wouldn’t 
be any novelty, my young friend. They’re tired 
of me at Bow Street. They’re on to the game. 
At one time, I could get locked up for the night, 
or for a week, or for a month, just whichever I 
liked; I knew exactly how far to go. But they 
won’t lock me up now until they can make a good 
job of it. They’re quite willing to give me five 
stretch, but that doesn’t suit my book. I should 
get very tired of it long before the finish. That’s 
my temperament; I can’t stick at anything. Got 
another fag?” 

“ Certainly.” Hannibal again produced the 
silver cigarette-case, and again the stranger, with 
an easy air, helped himself. 


i 62 


LORD LONDON 


“ Yes,” he continued, as though he enjoyed talk- 
ing to a man of education, “ I’m the result of what 
is known as versatility. As a hoy, I was the admi- 
ration of my parents, especially my poor silly 
mother, and the envy of most of my school-fellows. 
I could do anything, from taking a watch to pieces 
to making an occasional fifty at cricket. The trou- 
ble with me was that I couldn’t put the watch to- 
gether again, and I couldn’t be relied upon at 
cricket even to break my duck. I was clever at am- 
ateur theatricals, but I never knew my lines, and I 
couldn’t act for toffee if I didn’t get the best part in 
the piece. I could write an essay on any subject 
you like in ten minutes, and it read well when it was 
done, but there was nothing to it when you came 
to consider the meaning. I had all sorts of tricks 
for remembering the stuff we had to learn by heart, 
and I could sail up to the top of the class next 
morning as easy as easy, but ask me what I’d 
learned a week later, or even forty-eight hours, 
and I wouldn’t know a blessed word of it. 

“ It was just the same when it came to trying 
my luck in the world. My father wanted me to 
be a barrister, and I was mighty clever at cross- 
examination among my pals, but I never passed 
the examinations — couldn’t be bothered. Then 
I took to your game — journalism — as most of 
them do, and I should have got on splendidly at 
that if I could have started at the top. But the 
fool editors always stuck me at something dull. 


THE GREAT IDEA 163 

such as reports of small meetings, when I wanted 
to be on a big murder job, and that soon gave me 
the stick. The old man sent me to South Africa 
to earn a fortune, and I made a lot of friends 
very quickly in Durban, but I saw there were no 
fortunes to be made unless you got a job and 
stuck to it for years. By this time, I had tumbled 
to it that I should never stick to anything, so I 
stayed at the Cape, having a pretty good time, 
until the old man refused to cough up any more 
cash; then I came home again. 

“ A year or two later, the old man died, and 
I found I’d already had all that was coming from 
that quarter. I sponged on my other relations 
for a bit, but they soon got tired of it; besides, 
they were all as poor as rats themselves. So then 
I took to anything that came handy — selling pa- 
pers, busking, extra gentleman at the theaters, 
sandwich-man, pavement artist, selling matches, 
minding horses, touting at race-meetings, begging, 
singing in the streets. Salvation Army, Church 
Army, picking pockets, collecting ends of fags, 
hop-picking, sailoring, minding bathing-machines, 
stealing chickens, poaching, amateur burgling, 
stealing dogs, gardening, running errands, lifting 
luggage off cabs — you know ; all the usual things. 
Upon my word, that sort of life suited me better 
than anything else I’d ever touched. I didn’t be- 
gin like it, but I soon got like it, and the cause of 
the whole business was just what I told you at 


164 


LORD LONDON 


the start — versatility. And my poor silly mother 
used to be proud of it. 

“ She used to get me into the drawing-room, 
when she had a party, and make me show the 
folks how clever I was. Naturally, I got to think 
I was a very high-class piece of goods. Work 
wasn’t good enough for me; there wasn’t a job 
going where I could show off half of my blooming 
gifts at once; so I took to loafing — that was the 
only game where my versatility came In useful. 
If you’re born versatile, you’re born a loafer. 
That’s my belief, and I could point to fifty In- 
stances of It along this Embankment any night you 
like. Versatile? Half the chaps on their uppers 
started by being versatile and then did like me — 
no good to anybody, anywhere, or at anything. 
If ever you get a kid. Mister Journalist, and you 
notice any signs of his threatening to be versatile, 
you take a stick and whack It out of him before 
he’s ten years of age, and see that his mother does 
the same. Got another fag? ” 

All through his career. Lord London has re- 
membered this interview on the Embankment and 
the wa;rning it brought with it. As a matter of 
fact, he was himself born with the dangerous gift 
of versatility. We said in our second chapter 
that he might have become a professional musi- 
cian, an actor, a dramatist, a theatrical manager, a 
war correspondent, or even a poet. Had it not 
been for this casual but none the less effective little 


THE GREAT IDEA 


165 


homily, we might have seen him in almost as 
many capacities as the Kaiser himself. By his 
determined concentration on the one business 
which he knows he thoroughly understands, Lord 
London has done a real service to humanity at 
large by proving that even the hydra-headed mon- 
ster called Versatility may be scotched. 

“ At any rate,” he said, “ you’ve had a varied 
experience.” 

“ Yes,” agreed the stranger. “ I should be a 
useful man in a newspaper-office, if I hadn’t got 
to do any real work.” 

“ How can a man be useful on a newspaper 
who doesn’t work? ” 

” My good young friend, that remark, without 
your very youthful appearance, would have told 
me that you were new at the game. It isn’t the 
men who work that get the prizes in this world; 
it’s the men who have the brains to set others 
working. I don’t suppose your mamma would 
care to hear me preaching these sentiments to 
you, but this isn’t exactly a Sunday-school, and, 
anyway, they’re true. The sort of job that would 
suit me in a newspaper-office is a sort of consulting 
expert in ideas. I should sit in a comfortable 
armchair, just like this, smoking cigarettes, just 
like this, and you would drop in and tell me you 
wanted a notion for a brilliant out-of-the-way 
article. I should light another cigarette, take up 
the daily paper and in ten minutes you would get 


1 66 


LORD LONDON 


your idea. I shouldn’t write the article myself — 
please understand that. Rather than write the 
article myself, I would keep the idea to myself, 
but, given the idea, anybody could write the 
article. Now you see what I mean, don’t 
you? ” 

“ Perfectly,” said Hannibal. “ Let’s start right 
away. We’re not in my office, and we haven’t 
got a daily paper, but you’ve got a cigarette, and 
I’ve just popped in. I want a line for my weekly 
bill which, as I told you, will startle everybody 
in the kingdom. Now, take your ten minutes, and 
show me what you can do.” 

The stranger again smiled his mirthless cynical 
smile. 

“ You’ll get on, young man.” 

“ I hope so.” 

“ Yes. You’ll get on. You’ve got brains of 
your own, but, what is more important, you know 
how to make use of other men’s brains. There’s 
just one thing I’d like to warn you about.” 

“ What’s that? ” 

“ Never make the mistake of trying to get 
other men’s brains for nothing.” 

“ I don’t want them for nothing.” 

“ Don’t you?” 

“ No.” 

“ Aren’t you trying to get mine for nothing? ” 

“ No. Give me a winning idea, and I’ll pay 
you for it.” 


THE GREAT IDEA 


167 


“ How do I know that? ” 

“ By your knowledge of character.” 

“ That’s a good answer. But I shouldn’t know 
where to find you.” 

“ Yes, you would. Here’s my name and ad- 
dress.” 

The stranger rose, walked as far as the nearest 
lamp, and carefully read the card. This done, he 
placed it in a pocket of his waistcoat, returned to 
the bench, and settled down again with great con- 
cern for his bodily comfort. 

“ Pleased to know you, Mr. Quain. Let me re- 
turn the compliment. Godfrey Brandon, at your 
service. Sounds like a pseudonym, doesn’t it? ” 

“ It does.” 

“ Well, it is. I make it a rule to have a fresh 
name for every fresh job. And I suit the name 
to the job. When I was selling your paper, I 
was Bill ’Arris. Now I’m promoted to the edito- 
rial staff. I’m Godfrey Brandon.” 

“ Pleased to meet you, Mr. Brandon,” said 
Hannibal, gravely. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Quain. I see by your card 
that your chambers are not very far from here.” 

“ Quite correct,” replied Hannibal. “ I live 
in York Buildings.” 

“ I know York Buildings. Had a room there 
myself for a time some years ago. Curious how 
one always feels drawn toward the places one has 
known in one’s youth, isn’t it? ” 


i68 


LORD LONDON 


“ D’you feel drawn to York Buildings? ” asked 
Hannibal. 

“ Well, I’ve not sunk so low as to force 
myself on any man’s hospitality, Mr. Quain. At 
the same time, I think you will agree with me that 
the brain works more readily when the body is 
fortified. Some people don’t understand that; I 
give you credit for more intelligence. It is now 
half-past twelve, and the public places of refresh- 
ment are closed. There are, of course, such 
things as coffee-stalls, but I never find the general 
atmosphere of a coffee-stall conducive to brilliant 
inspirations. May I ask whether you’re married, 
Mr. Quain? ” 

“ Yes, I am,” said Hannibal. 

“ Then it’s off.” 

Hannibal thought rapidly. Mr. Brandon was 
certainly an uncommon personality, and it might 
be that under the influence of a little plain food 
and a whisky-and-soda, he would happen to hit 
upon the human all-appealing line of which Han- 
nibal was so badly in need. Mr. Brandon was 
desperately shabby, but he was not, on closer in- 
spection, aggressively dirty. Sheila would cer- 
tainly have gone to bed, and would be spared the 
necessity of meeting this unexpected visitor. 

“ No, it’s not,” he replied. “ Come along, Mr. 
Brandon. My home is also my office. Let’s 
stroll round there.” 

Without another word, they crossed the Em- 


THE GREAT IDEA 


169 


bankment, and proceeded in the direction of York 
Buildings. It was still raining, and the crowd 
of homeless people under the railway-bridge had 
grown to large proportions. Some of the men 
spoke to Mr. Brandon as he passed, but he vouch- 
safed no further reply than an airy wave of the 
hand which held the lighted cigarette. 

“ Poor company, most of them,” he told Han- 
nibal. 

“ Here and there, perhaps, a man with brains, 
but the rest you’d find exceedingly dull, Mr. Quain. 
It’s the same, of course, in every walk of life. 
Men of ideas, such as ourselves, experience a 
great difficulty in finding suitable companionship. 
If I knew nothing of your world, I might regret 
the circumstances which have rendered it neces- 
sary for me to pass much of my time with these 
commonplace people, but, in reality, the talk that 
one hears under these bridges at night is much 
the same talk that one hears in the clubs, save, 
perhaps, that the phrases and expressions em- 
ployed by your friends in the clubs are a little 
lacking, to a man who has knocked about the 
world as I have, in point and the touch of acidity 
which is necessary to make any conversation pal- 
atable. . . . Ah, dear old York Buildings! Just 
the same as ever 1 How long will this little back- 
water of London be safe, I wonder, from the hand 
of the vandal? ” 

Hannibal opened the front door very quietly. 


lyo 


LORD LONDON 


and Mr. Brandon, taking the hint, followed him 
up the narrow staircase on tiptoe. Hannibal 
gave him a comfortable chair, mixed him a drink, 
and then slipped into the bedroom to reassure 
Sheila. Fortunately, she was fast asleep. He 
returned to the sitting-room, closing the door of 
the bedroom very gently behind him. There was 
some food on the table, for Sheila knew that, 
though Hannibal could not always eat immediately 
after finishing his work, he often came in hungry 
from his walk. Seating himself at the head of 
the table, he invited Mr. Brandon to join him, an 
invitation which was promptly, though not rav- 
enously accepted. 

During supper, Mr. Brandon did not talk very 
much. He took great care to eat as though he 
had had the usual number of meals during the day; 
this showed Hannibal that the man’s pride was not 
entirely killed. After supper, Hannibal mixed 
him a second whisky-and-soda, placed the ciga- 
rettes near him, and begged him to talk in an un- 
dertone because Mrs. Quain was asleep. 

Mr. Brandon, with the air of an expert, took 
up a copy of “ You and I ” and critically studied 
the pages. 

“ A nice little paper,” was his verdict. “ A 
very nice little paper, Mr. Quain, but there’s far 
too much information in it. People don’t want 
such a lot of information; they want to be amused, 
and interested, and advised. That’s a curious 


THE GREAT IDEA 


171 

thing — the amount of advice that people can 
swallow. Ninety-nine men out of a hundred will 
listen to advice by the hour on anything. They 
don’t care a bit who advises them: they’ll take 
advice on matters of health, for instance, from a 
man who knows no more about health than a 
jackass in the wilderness knows about the solar 
system. In my time, I’ve run across commercial 
magnates, and I’ve advised them how to double 
their fortunes; they’ve listened to me, and I 
shouldn’t mind betting it’s had an influence on 
their operations the next day. 

“ I’ve advised singers about their throats, and 
painters about their subjects, and sailors about the 
management of ships, and soldiers about the best 
kind of food to march on, and jockeys about how 
to win races. I’m the sort of man you always 
hear talking in the bars of public-houses, and in 
railway-trains, and places like that. I never know 
what I’m going to talk about until I begin, but that 
doesn’t matter a jot; people take it all in^ — drink 
it down as sweetly as possible. 

“ The only class of people I could never get 
to take any advice was the theatrical class. 
Actors, I mean. It’s a curious thing, Mr. Quain, 
but an actor will never believe that anybody can 
tell him anything. Whatever he does, it’s bound 
to be right. And an actor is the only man you 
can’t talk down. I don’t know what it is about 
them, but they’ve got a way of getting the atten- 


172 


LORD LONDON 


tion of the whole company, and then talking about 
themselves and their past triumphs until you won- 
der how it happens that such an extraordinary 
man should be content with anything less than a 
thousand pounds a week.” 

“ I don’t wish to seem inhospitable,” Hannibal 
interposed, when he found an opportunity, “ nor 
do I wish to jar on your pet weakness by asking 
you to keep to the subject in hand, but I must 
remind you, Mr. Brandon, that we came up here 
for a specific purpose, namely, to see if you could 
give me a line for my weekly bill.” 

“ That’s true, Mr. Quain. I’d quite forgotten 
it. You see the sort of chap I am. Now, I think 
you said you wanted a line that would startle 
everybody? ” 

“ That’s what I want.” 

“ It must be a short line? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And a human line? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And a line that will rouse their curiosity to 
the extent of making them buy your paper? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ Just give me a moment.” 

Mr. Godfrey Brandon leaned back in his chair, 
closed his eyes, and described vague circles with 
the thin wisp of smoke from his cigarette. He 
remained in this attitude for nearly ten minutes, 
until Hannibal feared that his guest might have 


THE GREAT IDEA 


173 


gone to sleep. Just as he was about to rise and 
prod him gently with the end of the poker, Mr. 
Brandon suddenly opened his eyes and fixed Han- 
nibal with a piercing stare. Hannibal was not 
exactly a nervous subject, but he retained his 
grasp of the poker. 

“My God!” whispered Mr. Brandon. 

“ What’s the matter? ” 

“ I’ve got it!” 

“ Got what? ” 

“ It. Give me a piece of paper.” 

Hannibal handed him a large sheet of blank 
paper and a large blue pencil. Mr. Brandon 
wrote rapidly a few words in capital letters, and 
then held up the paper at arm’s length, so that 
Hannibal could read it from where he sat. 

Hannibal looked at the paper. The effect upon 
him was extraordinary. He shot up from his 
chair, went over to Mr. Brandon, seized the pa- 
per, gripped the hand that had held it, and wrung 
it heartily. 

“ Great! ” 

“ You see it? ” 

“ See it? I should think I do see it ! I’ll plas- 
ter England with that bill to-morrow ! You’re a 
splendid fellow, Brandon ! You shall come on my 
staff, and have a room to yourself, and a constant 
supply of cigarettes, and be my consulting expert 
on ideas! Have another drink! Help yourself ! 
Now I must think how it’s to be done ! The 


174 


LORD LONDON 


printers and publishers are all in bed, and, of 
course, snoring! Everybody’s always in bed and 
snoring in this country! Never mind! It’ll give 
me time to think how it’s to he done ! By Jingo, 
what a glorious line for a bill ! ” 

He returned to his chair and buried his head in 
his hands ; every now and then, he heard a gentle 
gurgling noise as of whisky poured into a glass, 
followed by the short hissing of a soda-water 
syphon. Hannibal did not look up. He was still 
busy with his thoughts. 

To-morrow he must take two steps that would 
either ruin him or make him. The first step was 
to carry out his hoast of plastering England with 
the bill suggested by Mr. Godfrey Brandon. That 
would be a very difficult, and a very bold, and a 
very risky step, but he was like a man who, walk- 
ing along a narrow path overhanging a ravine, 
suddenly comes to a point where he must jump for 
his life or perish. He cannot go back: he can- 
not go forward unless he jumps. The gap in the 
path is wide, and the landing on the opposite side 
is crumbling and treacherous. Looking down, he 
can see, hundreds of feet below him, the upturned 
rocks that indicate the bottom of the ravine. 
Yet there is no help for it. Even if the jump 
were an impossible one for any human being to 
accomplish, it would be better to attempt it than 
to linger on that narrow ledge, amid that awful 
loneliness, and perish of starvation. But — and 


THE GREAT IDEA 


175 


this Is the important thing — the leap Is not Im- 
possible. Others before him must have accom- 
plished it. Others before him must have found 
themselves In that identical situation, and escaped 
with their lives. On the morrow, therefore, he 
would take the leap. 

The other Important step he had determined to 
make, partly as the result of his conversation with 
Mr. Hamm’s grave manservant, and partly be- 
cause the manservant’s words had been almost 
echoed by Mr. Brandon, was an entire change in 
the character of his paper. Those who know any- 
thing of Lord London’s methods, will have ob- 
served that he is never above listening to any 
opinion, no matter how humble or inexperienced 
the speaker. Indeed, the humbler and more In- 
experienced the better, for he thus gets really 
into touch with the thoughts of the public. 

As Hannibal Quain, he allowed himself to be 
influenced in the same way. Twice that day he 
had been told that there was too much information 
in his paper, and by men of such widely different 
temperaments and habits as the grave manservant 
and the poor penniless drifter over the surface of 
the globe. Hannibal felt that they must be right. 
If the public did not want a paper stuffed with 
information. It was no use trying to cram it down 
their throats. If they wanted to be amused, if 
they wanted little bits of jocular nonsense, and 
a little homely talk, and a story full of coronets 


LORD LONDON 


176 

and thrills, they should have all these things. It 
would mean very hard work; it would mean much 
more expense on the editorial side ; these expenses 
and this extra work must somehow be met. . . . 

“ Yes, the poster, combined with the change 
of policy, ought to do it. . . . If it did not do it, 
he did not know . . . what . . . 

And still the whisky gently gurgled and the 
syphon hissed. . . . 

At five o’clock that morning, Sheila awoke. To 
her surprise and alarm, Hannibal had not re- 
turned. She slipped out of bed, pulled on her 
dressing-gown, and opened the door of the sitting- 
room. 

On one side of the fireplace, in the full glare 
of the gas, sat Hannibal, fast asleep. On the 
other side of the fireplace sat a strange shabby 
man, also fast asleep, and breathing very thickly. 
By the side of the strange shabby man stood a 
small table, and, on the table, a whisky decanter, 
quite empty. 

Between them, on the hearthrug, lay a sheet of 
paper, upon which was inscribed, in large blue 
letters, these words: 


ONE POUND A WEEK 
FOR LIFE! 


/ 


IX 


SUCCESS 

‘ ‘ F course it’ll make the paper sell like 

1 M wildfire,” said Sheila, “ but suppose 
you can’t go on paying the money? It 
seems awful to think of paying anybody a pound 
a week as long as they live.” 

It was six o’clock in the morning. Mr. Bran- 
don had gone, and Hannibal, who absolutely re- 
fused to go to bed, was drinking a cup of tea 
preparatory to dashing off to see Mr. Halliday. 
He had told Sheila all about his meeting with 
Mr. Brandon and of their conversation, and of 
Mr. Brandon’s affection for York Buildings, and 
the sudden discovery of the Great Idea. Sheila 
had listened; then rebuked him for his rashness, 
and then forgiven, and then put the kettle on to 
boil. 

“ I’ve thought it all out,” said Hannibal. 
“ What you do is to buy an annuity. If the per- 
son who wins the prize — ” 

“What prize?” 

“ Why, the pound a week for life.” 

“ But what will they have to do to win it? ” 

177 


178 


LORD LONDON 


“ Oh, I’m not bothering about that yet. 
There’ll be plenty of time to think that out after 
we’ve got out our poster. I needn’t even an- 
nounce the details of the competition in the next 
issue. I shall just tell them enough to excite their 
curiosity, and promise full details the following 
week. That’s how you make a competition pay; 
you don’t expect a large sum of money like this 
to sell merely one issue; you spread out the an- 
nouncement of the competition and the result over 
several issues. That keeps up the excitement and 
the sales. Do you realize, Sheila, that this is the 
most sensational prize ever offered by a newspa- 
per? ” 

“I should think it is! I think you must be 
mad, Han! ” 

“ Yes, I may have gone a little mad last night, 
but it’s a good thing to go mad sometimes. You 
get your inspirations in a moment of madness, 
and then you think out the details when you’re 
sane. I’m sane enough now, and I’m beginning 
to think out the details. In the first place, of 
course, the amount you have to pay depends upon 
the age of the winner.” 

“ Oh, you don’t mean to say that you’re going 
to pick out some poor old thing about ninety ! ” 

“ Oh, no. That would spoil the whole business. 
The prize will go, fairly and squarely, to the 
winner; all I mean is that the older the winner 
happens to be, the better for us. After I’ve seen 


SUCCESS 


179 


Halllday, I shall call at one of those big offices 
where they insure people’s lives and pay annuities, 
and see how much they want for an annuity for a 
person, say, thirty to forty years of age. I should 
think seven to eight hundred pounds ought to do 
it.” 

“ But, my dear Han, we haven’t got eight hun- 
dred pounds, have we? ” 

“We soon shall have when the paper begins 
to sell. The advertisers will see what a splendid 
idea this is, and our spaces will go off like hot 
cakes. In the meantime, if necessary, one can 
always borrow. ... I haven’t time to shave. 
Just rout me out a clean collar, old girl, and I’ll 
be off.” 

“ There’s no hurry. Mr. Halliday won’t be 
at his office as early as this.” 

“ If he isn’t. I’ll go to his house and pull him 
out of bed. Good-by ! Wish me luck ! ” 

“ I wish you all the luck in the world,” said 
Sheila, kissing him. But she looked more than 
a little anxious as she watched him disappear down 
the stairs. 

Mr. Halliday was not at his office, so Hannibal 
jumped on a ’bus, and went to his private house. 
Mr. Halliday’s kitchen-maid was scrubbing the 
front steps. 

“ Mr. Halliday at home? ” asked Hannibal. 

“Mr. ’Alllday?” 

“ Yes. This is his house, isn’t it? ” 


i8o 


LORD LONDON 


“ Oh, yes, this is ’is ’ouse.” 

“ Well, is he at home?” 

“ Mr. ’Alliday’s ahed.” 

“ Then he must be at home. Just tell him Mr. 
Hannibal Quain has called, will you? ” 

“ Mr. ’Oo?” 

“ Mr. Hannibal Quain. And tell him the mat- 
ter’s very urgent. Look sharp, my girl I ” 

“ But ’e’s abed,” repeated the girl. 

“ Yes, you said that before. He’s not ill, I 
suppose? ” 

“ Oh, no, ’e ain’t ill. At least, not as I knows 
on.” 

“ Then take up my card. I’ll wait in here.” 

Hannibal walked past her and entered a room 
on the right. The girl, following, peered at him 
through the crack of the door. As Hannibal 
showed no signs of stealing the sideboard or the 
carpet, or the dining-table, she at last went slowly 
up the stairs, holding the card before her at arm’s 
length as though she had met one of those things 
before and been rather badly bitten by it. Several 
minutes elapsed, and at last the girl returned, look- 
ing half scared and half indignant. 

“ Well, is he coming down? ” 

The girl shook her head. “ If you please, sir, 
Mr. ’Alliday said ’as ’ow I was to tell you to go 
somewhere.” 

“ To go somewhere ? To go where ? ” 

“ I don’t ’ardly like to say, sir.” 


SUCCESS 


i8i 


“ But you must say. It’s very important. 
Where did Mr. Halliday say I was to go? ” 

“ If you please, sir, to the devil.” 

Hannibal considered. “ Is Mr. Halliday mar- 
ried?” he asked. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Oh. ... Is Mrs. Halliday at home?” 

“ No, sir. She’s dead.” 

“Recently?” Hannibal had no wish to in- 
trude upon the grief of the widower. 

“ Beg pardon, sir? ” 

“ I said, how long is it since Mrs. Halliday 
died? ” 

“ Well, sir, I wasn’t here meself at the time, 
but I understand it was fourteen year ago.” 

“ Thank you. I suppose Mr. Halliday sleeps 
in the room over this one, doesn’t he? ” 

“ Yes, sir, that’s right.” 

To the girl’s astonishment, Hannibal once again 
brushed past her, ran up the stairs two at a time, 
and went straight into Mr. Halli day’s room with- 
out knocking. Mr. Halliday, who looked older 
and less important in bed than sitting in his office, 
turned his head on the pillow and stared at Han- 
nibal for several seconds without seeming to 
comprehend what had happened. Then, raising 
himself a little, he demanded angrily: 

“ What the devil does this mean? ” 

“ Good morning, Mr. Halliday,” said Hanni- 
bal. 


i 82 


LORD LONDON 


“ Leave this room 1 ” thundered Mr. Halliday, 
pointing dramatically to the door. 

“ Don’t be silly,” said Hannibal. “ I’ve come 
to put money in your pocket.” 

“I don’t care what you’ve come for! It’s a 
piece of confounded impertinence bursting into my 
room like this ! ” 

“ I know it is, but It’s also a great compliment, 
Mr. Halliday. I’ve called upon you at this early 
hour because I believe you’re the one man In all 
London who is worthy to handle the greatest 
journalistic scheme on record.” 

“Mad!” muttered poor Mr. Halliday, fum- 
bling for the bell-rope. “The boy’s mad! ” 

“ No, I’m not mad, Mr. Halliday. But I want 
you to get out of your bed at once and come along 
to your office. I told you I’d a card up my sleeve 
to make my paper a huge success; now’s the time 
to play it. Shall I pull the clothes off for you? ” 
“Certainly not!” screamed Mr. Halliday. 
“ You dare to lay a finger on this bed, and I’ll 
send for the police and have you locked up! 
Nice thing, upon my word, if a man can’t have 
his proper night’s rest without every young jacka- 
napes In the country coming bursting into his room 
and wanting him to get up at a moment’s notice ! 
What do I care about your idea? You and your 
paper can go to the devil together! And just 
keep your distance from this bed! D’ye hear? ” 
Hannibal, quite unruffled by all this noise. 


SUCCESS 183 

seated himself at the foot of the bed and looked 
very gravely and earnestly at Mr. Halliday. 

“ If you weren’t such a quick-tempered man,” 
he began, ” you might make a great deal more 
money. It’s no use your pretending that you 
don’t want to make more money, because I know 
very well that you do. If you really wish me to 
go to some other publisher with my idea. I’ll do 
it, but it might be worth your while to hear what 
I have to say. That’s better. You can lay your 
head back on the pillow ; but don’t shut your eyes 
or you might go to sleep again, and there are al- 
ready far too many people asleep in the city of 
London. 

“ Now, Mr. Halliday, can you get me fifty 
thousand double-crown posters printed and dis- 
tributed to the newsagents and advertising con- 
tractors to-day? ” 

“ No,” snapped Mr. Halliday, “ I can’t.” 

“ Why can’t you? ” 

“ Because I can’t. I’ve got a full day’s work 
before me as it is.” 

“ And yet you lie snoring here the best part of 
the morning? ” 

“ You mind your own business.” 

“ I am minding my own business. And, what’s 
my business, is your business. I’m going to have 
those fifty thousand posters, Mr. Halliday, and 
here is the matter for them.” He handed Mr. 
Halliday the sheet of paper with the large blue 


184 


LORD LONDON 


lettering on it. “ That makes you gasp, doesn’t 
it? You know very well that those fifty thou- 
sand posters, with that announcement on them, 
will send up the circulation of ‘ You and I ’ to 
half a million copies. If you like to get up now 
and put the matter through. I’ll go and call a cab 
and have it ready for you in ten minutes. Under 
the circumstances, you needn’t wash very much 
this morning. If you prefer to stay in bed, say 
so, and I’ll go to some other publisher. But let 
one thing be quite clear, Mr. Halliday; if I go to 
another publisher, I remain with that publisher, 
and you lose one of the best prizes in the Trade. 
Now, let me have your decision. Bed or business 
— which is it to be? ” 

“ I’ll do it,” said Mr. Halliday, “ but I shall 
want a cup o’ tea, mind.” 

“ Right. I’ll go down and tell that highly 
intelligent servant of yours to make you some 
tea.” 

“ Oh, don’t tell her. Tell the cook. I won’t 
be more than ten minutes.” 

Hannibal, before he left the room, had the sat- 
isfaction of seeing Mr. Halliday pattering across 
the room in his nightshirt. 

In the cab, Mr. Halliday showed that he had 
left his bed to some purpose. He was by no 
means lacking in imagination, and the magnitude 
and daring of Hannibal’s scheme appealed to him. 
He advised Hannibal not to bother his head about 


SUCCESS 


185 


where the prize-money was to come from until 
the time drew nearer for it to be paid. Then, if 
the circulation and advertisement-revenue re- 
sponded in the way they might expect, he was not 
at all sure that he, Mr. Halliday himself, would 
not be prepared to advance Hannibal a sufficient 
sum to purchase the annuity. 

Hannibal dropped him at the door of his office 
before eight o’clock, much to the surprise of the 
charwoman, and much more to the surprise of the 
yawning clerks w'ho arrived a little after nine 
o’clock. He then drove back to York Buildings, 
and set to work to get the new and brighter ma- 
terial for his paper, and to think out a competi- 
tion that would be easy enough to appeal to every- 
body, and yet not so easy that more than one per- 
son would be likely to win the prize. It was 
highly necessary that the pound a week for life 
should not be split up among three or four people. 

It will be within the memory of many that he 
eventually decided to ask his readers to forecast 
the number of births in the United Kingdom for 
the month of October. In order that there should 
be no suspicion of a lottery, he did not demand 
an entrance fee, and was careful to give them the 
statistics for the ten previous Octobers. Each 
reply, however, had to be accompanied by a cou- 
pon cut from the paper. 

The result was staggering. From the very 
hour that the first posters appeared, Mr. Dodd’s 


i86 


LORD LONDON 


machines were kept hot turning out copies of 
“ You and I ” by the thousand. The Public sud- 
denly went mad over “ You and I.” The com- 
petition became the favorite topic of conversa- 
tion — at dinner-parties in the West End, in 
suburban drawing-rooms, in country towns, in 
small villages, and in the far-distant Colonies. 
Hannibal had to engage a suite of offices for the 
clerks who were required to deal with the cou- 
pons. The demand for advertisement-spaces 
presently grew so insistent that every inch, so to 
speak, meant gold. Hasdrubal was suddenly 
hauled out of school and set to manage the count- 
ing-house; he at once justified his appointment by 
showing a genius for finance. A little later, Soc- 
rates was also called in to assist with the new 
venture. 

But that, together with the effect of this sud- 
den and glorious success of Hannibal and his 
little bride, belongs to another chapter. 


X 


THE USE OF VICTORY 

S OMEBODY with a talent for the obvious 
has said that success is harder to bear than 
failure. The number of men who have 
been able to use an early success as a stepping- 
stone to greater victories is so small that these 
men stand out as landmarks in the histories of 
their various callings; the number of men, on the 
other hand, who have been ruined by an early 
success is legion. The fable of the Hare and the 
Tortoise would never have become a classic had 
the Hare possessed a larger amount of moral sta- 
bility than the average hare. 

Hannibal was no ordinary hare. He proved 
that by his actions immediately following on the 
huge success of “ You and I.” Many people 
were affected by this success. The first person to 
be affected was his mother, who suddenly found 
herself transported from the little house in St. 
John’s Wood, which was no longer big enough 
for her growing sons, to a very charming resi- 
dence on the breezy heights of Hampstead. 

We have already seen how Hasdrubal and 
Socrates were affected. Now was the time for 

187 


i88 


LORD LONDON 


Hasdrubal to fulfill the oath which he swore on 
the word of the Quains, when Hannibal freely 
forgave him a certain debt of twopence. Has- 
drubal, impressed by the magnanimity of his eld- 
est brother, had on that day said, “ I’m your man 
for always ! ” Hannibal did not remind Has- 
drubal of this oath; there was no need for that. 
He knew that Hasdrubal had not forgotten, and 
Hasdrubal knew that he knew it. And now, to 
the free pardon of the debt of twopence, Hanni- 
bal had added this sudden and glorious emanci- 
pation from school, had placed him in a position 
of great responsibility, and was paying him, con- 
sidering Hasdrubal’s tender years, a very hand- 
some salary. 

We have said that Hannibal’s wisdom in se- 
lecting Hasdrubal as his Chancellor of the Ex- 
chequer was swiftly justified. Hannibal, to tell 
tlie truth, was never a born financier. Money, 
to him, was never a concrete substance. He 
looked upon money rather as the conqueror of a 
rich but undeveloped country might look upon a 
full river of fresh water. As a plentiful supply 
of water is necessary to the prosperous develop- 
ment of a country, so Hannibal knew that a plen- 
tiful supply of money was necessary to the pros- 
perity of his business. But he also felt that that 
bounteous stream must not be stored away in huge 
casks in some enormous underground cavern; it 
must he turned this way and that, to refresh and 


THE USE OF VICTORY 


stimulate and invigorate all his enterprises. It 
was the fluid quality of money, in short, that ap- 
pealed to him; so much may be done, he saw, 
with a powerful fluid of this nature, particularly 
if the supply was practically inexhaustible. 

Hasdrubal also saw the wisdom of this policy, 
but he brought an innate gift of science to bear 
upon the stream. While he never attempted to 
persuade Hannibal to adopt the cask-and-cellar 
system, he began, on his own responsibility, to 
build huge reservoirs in which to store the valua- 
ble fluid in case of a sudden and unexpected 
drought. So the two brothers worked harmoni- 
ously side by side, Hannibal drawing freely upon 
the full-flowing river, while Hasdrubal husbanded 
the spare supplies, and was careful to stop all 
leakages. 

Socrates, the third Quain boy, was drawn into 
the office rather by way of an experiment. He was 
a peculiar boy. Rather slow in speech, shorter in 
stature than his brothers, blandly innocent in ap- 
pearance, he might have frittered away the most 
valuable years of his life attempting to persuade 
proprietors of papers that he had a gift for jour- 
nalism. But Hannibal had observed that Soc- 
rates, though he spoke comparatively seldom, 
either in or out of the family circle, always spoke 
to some purpose. Socrates, evidently, was a 
thinker. When a problem of life presented it- 
self to his intelligence, Socrates would first of all 


190 


LORD LONDON 


regard it gravely, and steadily, and in silence for 
quite a long time. He would then gradually ap- 
proach the problem, place, so to speak, one paw 
firmly upon it, presently add another paw, and at 
last, with great deliberation, bury his mental teeth 
in it. When Socrates was thus engaged, it was 
of no use whatever trying to attract his attention 
to other matters. He would not leave his prob- 
lem until he had turned it this way and that, 
opened it, examined it inside and out from every 
point of view, and, after a process of resolute and 
methodical mastication, finally swallowed it. 

This is precisely what Socrates did with the 
problem of popular journalism. Hannibal brought 
him into the office, gave him his own room, and 
left him to investigate the problem. Nothing 
came of this investigation for quite a long time, 
and then, one day, Socrates also justified Hanni- 
bal’s confidence by bringing to his brother an idea 
for a weekly paper that would make its appeal to 
the sisters of all the youths and young men who 
w'ere now the stanch supporters of “ You and I.” 

“ Tell me about it,” said Hannibal, leaning 
back in his magnificently-upholstered leather chair, 
and balancing between his thumb and forefinger 
a heavy gold pencil-case, a small gift from a group 
of prominent advertisers on the completion of the 
first year in the life of “ You and I.” 

“ There is really very little to say about it,” 
replied Socrates. “ I shall tell them everything 


THE USE OF VICTORY 


191 

they ought to know and nothing that they ought 
not to know.” 

“What ought they to know?” 

“ They ought to know how to make things — 
how to make dresses, how to make blouses, how 
to make beds, how to make puddings, how to 
make jam, how to make a home. They ought 
to know" how to bring a diffident lover to the 
point. They ought to know how to keep them- 
selves fit in the summer, and how to keep them- 
selves fit in the winter. And there must be a 
certain amount of jam — nice little verses on sen- 
timental topics, golden thoughts from golden 
minds, and quite a long, complete story each week 
of a healthily exciting nature, in which virtue and 
wickedness will struggle hard up to the last para- 
graph, and love will triumph over all at the very 
finish.” 

All these things Socrates said quite gravely; 
there was not the slightest suggestion of banter 
or cynicism in his tone; it was the policy of the 
brothers to believe in their public, not to sneer at 
them. Hannibal may once have said in a moment 
of impetuosity that the more fools there were in 
the kingdom, the more papers he could sell, but 
he did not really mean that. He had impressed 
upon Hasdrubal, and also upon Socrates, that you 
must believe in your public before they will believe 
in you. He had no use for the man who came to 
him with his tongue in his cheek; that was why. 


192 


LORD LONDON 


rightly or wrongly, he avoided young gentlemen 
from the Universities. Socrates had fully mas- 
tered this guiding principle, and he spoke as sin- 
cerely of his new paper as though it were a vast 
scheme for the illumination of Darkest Africa; 
which, in a sense, it was. 

Hannibal approved the idea, and began to press 
innumerable buttons on his desk which summoned 
the chiefs of departments to the Great Room. 
The chiefs of departments came quickly; they 
were the quickest chiefs of departments in any 
office in London. They often surprised them- 
selves by their own quickness, but, however quick 
they were, Hannibal was always a little bit 
quicker. 

In half an hour, the main details were settled 
— ^the quality of the paper, the type, shape, color 
of wrapper, number of pages, day of publication. 
The chiefs of departments went their ways, full 
of excitement and enthusiasm. Socrates alone 
remained. 

“ What are you going to call it? ” asked Han- 
nibal. 

“ I’ve fifty-seven titles here for you to choose 
from.” 

“ Read them out.” 

So Socrates began to read. He read thirty- 
three titles without meeting with any interrup- 
tion from Hannibal. The thirty-fourth title was 
“ Rosemary.” 


THE USE OF VICTORY 


193 


“ That’ll do.” 

“ Good,” said Socrates. 

“ Is that the one you wanted? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Why didn’t you say it first? ” 

“ Because you wouldn’t have chosen the first.” 

“ Why wouldn’t I ? ” 

“ People never do.” 

“ Don’t apply any process of reasoning to me, 
Socrates. I know what I want directly I hear 
it. Let me see your dummy this afternoon.” 

And thus “ Rosemary,” which may be found 
this very day in nearly a million humble homes, 
had its birth. 

Of the other brothers, Virgil was now at Eton, 
Galahad at Harrow, and Anthony at a first-class 
preparatory school. Little Ajax remained, for 
the time being, with his mother. 

Mr. and Mrs. Gillfoyle were affected, in a less 
degree, by the success that had come to Hannibal. 
Their first intimation of it was a large pile of 
orange-colored copies of “ You and I ” lying on 
the counter of the village Post Office. When 
Mr. Gillfoyle inquired the reason of this sud- 
den interest in his son-in-law’s journal, he learned 
from the Postmaster, who was also the gro- 
cer, the chandler, the boot-seller, and the vil- 
lage librarian, that everybody in Clinton Bagot 
was going in for the pound a week for life. The 
Postmaster further assured him that a similar 


194 


LORD LONDON 


state of things prevailed in all the neighboring 
villages. 

Hurrying home to Mrs. Gillfoyle with this 
exciting news, he overtook the postman, who 
handed him a letter from Sheila in which she 
stated that Hannibal was sending her down to the 
Rectory for rest and fresh air, her services being 
no longer needed on the staff of the paper. Sheila 
arrived a day or two later at the nearest railway- 
station in a first-class carriage, surrounded by the 
latest books published, the newest magazines, the 
more expensive ladies’ journals, and other evi- 
dences of prosperity. The very next morning, 
a beautiful little phaeton stood before the front 
door, with a strong and steady pony between the 
shafts, and an equally steady coachman on the 
box. Hannibal had remembered that Mrs. Gill- 
foyle had often expressed a wish for a vehicle 
into which and out of which she could step with 
ease, and in which she could visit her friends in 
the neighborhood. He didn’t do things by halves ; 
a supply of money had been deposited with the 
manager of the local bank for the upkeep of the 
phaeton, the pony, and the coachman, and he had 
even remembered to instruct the banker to pay the 
yearly tax. 

Among the many other people who were af- 
fected by the new condition of things must be 
mentioned Mr. Godfrey Brandon. Mr. God- 
frey Brandon had not been slow to realize his 


THE USE OF VICTORY 


195 


luck in stumbling across a line for the bill that 
Hannibal had been able to fasten upon and turn 
to wonderful account. He duly presented him- 
self at the office in York Buildings, and was 
promptly sent out to get himself shaved, and 
washed, and decently clothed. He returned a 
week later, attired in a second-hand suit that had 
been made to fit a man twice his size, and bearing 
in his face the marks of a week’s orgy. 

“ This isn’t what I meant,” said Hannibal. 

“ Isn’t it what you expected? ” 

“ Yes, I’m afraid it is.” 

“ Then why did you give me the money? ” 

“ To make sure.” 

“ What’s the next move? ” 

“ That depends on yourself. If you’re wise, 
you’ll let me send somebody with you to get the 
clothes and pay for them. Then I’ll give you the 
position I promised you, instruct my cashier to 
pay for your board and lodging, and give you a 
small amount of pocket-money each week.” 

“ Thanks,” said Mr. Godfrey Brandon. “ I’d 
rather be in jail.” 

“ Then what do you expect me to do for you? ” 
“ Just give me a hundred pounds and let me 

go-” 

“ You’re a fool,” said Hannibal. 

“ I know that.” 

“ You mean it? ” 

“Yes.” 


196 


LORD LONDON 


“ Very well. You must sign a paper relin- 
quishing all further claims upon me.” 

“ All right.” 

“ Here you are,” said Hannibal, handing him 
the check. 

Mr. Brandon laughed his own peculiar laugh. 
“ What d’you expect me to do with that? ” 

“ Can’t you get it cashed? ” 

“ Likely, isn’t it? ” 

“ Oh, very well. Call this afternoon and you 
shall have the money in cash. Good-by.” 

Hannibal held out his hand and Mr. Brandon 
took it. 

“ Thus,” he said, “ Success and Failure go their 
ways. It was good of you to keep your word 
when you might easily have denied that you ever 
set eyes on me in your life. I should have been 
quite useless in your office, even if I had ever 
turned up, which is not at all likely. You say 
I’m a fool, and I can see you pitying me. That’s 
another sign that you don’t know everything, 
young man. You’ll be called a Success by the 
world, and, if the world had ever heard of me, 
it would call me a Failure. But I’m the real 
Success, because I can do what everybody would 
like to do.” 

“ What’s that? ” 

“ Live without working.” 

“ I haven’t the least desire to live without 
working, Mr. Brandon.” 


THE USE OF VICTORY 


197 


“ No, because you’re bitten by this terrible 
thing they call Ambition. You’re not your own 
master; the world is your master, because Ambi- 
tion has made you the slave of the world. All 
the people who work, whether from choice or ne- 
cessity, are the slaves of the world.” 

“ What will you do with your hundred 
pounds? ” 

“ Go where the sun shines.” 

“And then?” 

“ That’s all. Even the sun is a slave com- 
pared with me. I shall lie on my back on the 
sand, with the palm-trees behind me and the sea 
before me, and the sun will be my meat and 
drink, my clothes, my lodging, my wife, my chil- 
dren, and my friends. Good-by, Mister Success. 
Some day you may get over the effects of that 
bite, but I doubt it.” 

He went down the stairs and into the street, 
and Hannibal never saw him again. 

Such were the effects of the boom in Hannibal’s 
little paper on some of the people by whom he 
was surrounded. Now let us look more closely 
at the effect upon Hannibal himself. 

We have seen him battling, for a brief space, 
against adversity. He battled successfully, but 
this is no guarantee that he would have gone on 
battling. 

Some natures thrive and develop and expand 
under adversity; but others must have plenty 


198 LORD LONDON 

of the sunshine of success or they will wither and 
die. 

Hannibal Quain came into the second class. 
The success of “ You and I ” lent him an almost 
superhuman vitality. Every fresh evidence of 
this success was another stream of life-blood 
poured into his being. It is a fact that he had 
never before felt so physically fit. He could 
work far into the night — long after all the mem- 
bers of his staff had betaken their weary bodies 
to home and bed — and yet be quite ready to 
begin again early in the morning. 

His brain seethed with ideas. He took up 
publication after publication, all of them estab- 
lished successes before he appeared upon the 
scene, and found them heavy and behind the times. 
He may have been right, but it is only fair to say 
that many of these journals depended for their 
very existence on the fact that they were heavy and 
behind the times. Hannibal Quain would have 
slashed at them here and slashed at them there, 
and cut them down, and written them up, and 
lightened and brightened them to such an extent 
that the steady old bodies of subscribers would 
have been at first amazed, then shocked, and 
finally, with a heavy sigh, knocked their favorite 
journal off the list at their newsagent’s. Hanni- 
bal Quain, we say, would have done all these 
things; Lord London knows better. He has 


THE USE OF VICTORY 


199 


learned to respect the tastes and prejudices of 
the English Public, and he knows as well as any- 
one that the Public would rather ruin their eye- 
sight over type to which they are accustomed than 
have their favorite journal printed in a clear but 
unfamiliar type. He knows that, while you can 
do what you like with a new publication, you must 
not tamper with the old. 

Fortunately for Hannibal, he did not at this 
stage of his career begin buying up journals with 
established reputations. He preferred to create 
new journals, and his brain worked so quickly 
under the stimulus of appreciation by the public 
that he could quite easily have schemed out and 
organized and produced an entirely new paper 
each week. As it was, they came quickly enough, 
as everybody knows. He had soon covered the 
whole field of popular weekly journalism. He 
was the first man to realize that the Board Schools 
had brought a new and a tremendous public into 
existence; and he was not too proud to cater for 
that vast public. He understood them, he could 
see into their minds; and knew without listening 
or questioning or being told, exactly what they 
were thinking on any question of the day, or any 
phase of existence, or any of the ordinary affairs 
of life. So long as he followed this marvelous 
instinct, he could not make a mistake. He added 
to his staff every hour of the day; he was always 


200 


LORD LONDON 


taking new offices; his fortune grew and multi- 
plied so swiftly that he never knew how much 
he was really worth. 

For the first few years, he was so busy build- 
ing up his business that he had not time to realize 
his own power. It certainly did not come to him 
all at once that a man who could see right into 
the minds of the proletariat, and could express 
their thoughts on paper, and could stir their im- 
aginations, and could win their confidence, must, 
in a country which was beginning to be governed 
very largely by the proletariat, eventually wield 
an almost incalculable power in that country. 

The knowledge of this power came to him 
one day in a sort of blinding flash. He was read- 
ing a daily newspaper as he sat at breakfast, and 
he had steadily waded through two-thirds of a 
leader on a big human topic of the day. He was 
keenly interested in the topic, but he found his 
interest waning as he plowed his way through 
the leader. Suddenly putting down the paper, 
he said to Sheila: 

“ I must have a daily paper.” 

“ Why? ” asked Sheila. “ Haven’t you enough 
papers already? ” 

“ Yes, enough weekly papers, but I can’t stand 
this sort of thing.” 

He picked up the daily paper again, and opened 
it wide for her to see. Their eyes rested on an 
almost solid mass of small print. There was 


THE USE OF VICTORY 


201 


hardly a break of any sort to relieve the terrible 
monotony of those columns and columns of small 
print. The very idea of reading from the top 
left-hand corner down to the bottom right-hand 
corner of the opposite page made one feel faint 
and giddy. 

“ I don’t suppose you can,” agreed Sheila. 

“ Can anyone? ” 

“ I don’t suppose so.” 

“ But, then, why is it all printed? ” 

“ I don’t know. I never did think of a daily 
paper as a thing that people read.” 

“ Then what’s the use of it? ” 

“ Oh, it just tells you if anything of importance 
has happened.” 

“ But, my dear child, things of importance are 
always happening. Look out of the window! 
Look at the size of the world! Think of the 
thousands and thousands of square miles that make 
up the surface of the world, and think of the mil- 
lions and millions of people moving about on 
those square miles! Do you really mean to tell 
me that there are not enough things happening 
every hour of the day to stuff a daily paper so full 
of interesting reading that you would never want 
to read anything else? ” 

“I suppose so, but I hope you won’t bring out 
a daily paper that we shall all have to read, 
Han.” 

“ Why not? Why shouldn’t I ? ” 


202 


LORD LONDON 


“ Because we should have no time to read nov- 
els.” 

“ Oh, yes, you would. I shouldn’t be so stupid 
as to expect people to read nothing but my daily 
paper, nor have I the least desire to interfere with 
the sales of my own weekly papers. But I do feel 
absolutely certain that if there were a daily paper 
which gave people the news brightly and pithily 
served up in a small space, and gave them just 
such news as they wanted, and left out all the 
things that they didn’t want, and gave them, into 
the bargain, clever articles on special subjects writ- 
ten by the cleverest men of the day, and a leader 
which put their own ideas into a few simple but 
forcible words, and if that paper were sold at 
half the price of the ordinary daily paper as we 
have it at present — I do believe that that daily 
paper would very soon have a circulation of a 
million copies a day! 

“ Now, just think what one could do if one had 
a daily paper of one’s ow'n with a circulation of a 
million copies a day! It would mean that one 
would have a bigger hold on the people of this 
country than any other man in the country. Sup- 
pose you wanted to bring about any reform — and 
you know as well as I do, that there are plenty of 
social reforms that ought to be brought about — 
by insisting in this paper upon the need for that 
reform, you would have you.r million readers — 
or five million readers — for at least five people 


THE USE OF VICTORY 


203 


would read each copy — thinking about that re- 
form, and what people think about they talk about, 
and what they talk about they begin to want, and, 
when you had five million people wanting some- 
thing, those in authority would soon perceive that 
these five million people must either have what 
they want, or a very good reason must be given 
them for not having it ! 

“ There is no Government in this country or 
any other that could afford to snap its fingers in 
the face of a man who had only to open his mouth 
to speak clearly and forcefully to five million peo- 
ple. At present, there are plenty of people ready 
to sneer at me because I bring out little weekly pa- 
pers that are just meant to amuse and interest the 
masses. You know that well enough. But once 
let me have a daily paper of the kind I have de- 
scribed, and, if they continue to sneer, they’ll take 
care to get into a dark corner first and do it with 
their backs turned. It’s the greatest idea, Sheila, 
that I’ve struck as yet. Such a big idea that I 
shan’t attempt to tackle it at present. Before I 
tackle it, I must get the technique of the daily 
newspaper business at my fingers’ ends. We’ll 
keep it quite to ourselves, but I’m going to start 
looking into the matter this very day.” 

“ Will you never give yourself any rest, Han? ” 

“ Rest? I wasn’t made to rest. Some people 
can rest; I can’t. If I tried to rest, I should at 
once begin to rust, and the man who rusts is done 


204 


LORD LONDON 


for. I hate the very thought of rest. I want to 
go on, and on, and on, and there’s no saying where 
I shall stop.” 

“ You know that I w'ouldn’t discourage you for 
worlds, but promise me one thing? ” 

“ I’ll promise you anything.” 

“ Then promise me that, directly you begin to 
feel the slightest doubt about making a success of 
any new scheme, you’ll come to me and tell me 
exactly what the scheme is and why you have 
doubts about it.” 

“ Certainly I’ll promise that.” 

“ I don’t say that I shall at once thoroughly un- 
derstand the scheme, but I do think I understand 
you, and that is something toward it, isn’t it? ” 

” It’s a very great deal toward it. I value 
your sympathy and advice, dear, more than I value 
the help and advice of all the people in my employ 
put together, partly because you understand me so 
well, and partly because your advice is disinter- 
ested.” 

“ Is it? ” Sheila smiled. 

“ Well, isn’t it? ” 

“ No, you old duffer. If my advice is worth 
anything, it is because it’s just the opposite of dis- 
interested.” 

Hannibal jumped up, put his arms about her, 
and kissed her. 

“ This is developing into a philological discus- 
sion, and that’s a luxury I mustn’t indulge in when 


THE USE OF VICTORY 


205 

all my young people in all their offices need look- 
ing after.” 

“ Will you be in for lunch? ” 

“ Not a chance.” 

“Tea?” 

“ I’m afraid not, dearest.” 

“ Dinner? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I hope so.” 

“Only hope?” 

“ Who’s coming? ” 

“ Nobody.” 

“ Then I will. I wish we could cook sausages 
ourselves on the gas-stove ! ” 

“ Why shouldn’t we ? What fun 1 ” 

“ Splendid! Let’s ask dear old Hamm! ” 
“Would he come?” 

“ Make him ! It’s quite time he forgave me 
for paying back his old three thousand pounds.” 

“ All right. I’ll do my best to make him come.” 
“ Then it’s settled. He’ll come. What time? ” 
“ Cooking at seven — dinner at seven-thirty.” 
“ I’ll be here at seven. I wouldn’t miss seeing 
dear old Hamm handling the frying-pan again for 
all the papers and offices in Fleet Street! ” 


XI 


HANNIBAL AND HIS STAFF 
HERE are two ways of getting through a 



dense wood; one is the way of the little 


man, and the other is the way of the big 


man. The little man twists and turns, wriggling 
beneath dangerous brambles, skirting round the 
more difficult clumps of undergrowth. Occasion- 
ally, he may even go upon his hands and knees 
rather than risk a scratch or a blow. His circuit- 
ous path may lead him into miry places, but he 
does not mind that, because dirt, after all, does not 
actually wound the flesh. 

The big man’s method is precisely the opposite. 
On account of his stature, it is an impossibility for 
him to creep and crawl and wriggle. He marches 
straight on, with his head well up, laying about 
him lustily with his staff as he goes. He may be 
torn with thorns, he may be struck in the face by 
resentful branches whose peace he has disturbed, 
he may find the journey harder to accomplish than 
the little man who is wriggling and squirming 
along at his feet; but for him there is no other 
way. Spectators of the struggle may call him a 
fool; they may applaud, by contrast, the methods 


HANNIBAL AND HIS STAFF 207 

of the little man; but, in their hearts, they cannot 
help admitting that the big man presents a bolder, 
and a more admirable, and a more inspiring figure 
to the World. 

Lord London’s path through the forest of busi- 
ness life has always been the path of the big man. 
The way is clearer for him now, but, with the first 
rush of success, he found the tangle of under- 
growth far thicker than he could have supposed 
possible. His direct method of progress was, in 
a great measure, responsible for this. You can- 
not march quickly through a forest without leav- 
ing a trail behind you, and he certainly left a con- 
siderable trail of bruised reeds and saplings behind 
him during those early stages of his career. They 
raised their heads after he had passed, and, as 
they gradually recovered from the shock, whis- 
pered hissingly among themselves. They told the 
world around that here was a bad, a cruel, a 
vicious, and an unscrupulous man. They delib- 
erately closed their eyes to all that was good in 
him. They saw no merit in the fact that, by the 
strength of his own arm, he had dragged his fam- 
ily from obscurity, and something very like pov- 
erty, and placed them on high and firm ground. 
They never told the world that they themselves 
had had their chance and missed it. They never 
told the world that they had been tried and found 
wanting. They preferred to tell the tale in quite 
other language, and the world, which finds it con- 


208 


LORD LONDON 


venient to keep the standard of personal integrity 
fairly low, listened with greedy ears to these whis- 
perers. 

Hannibal, among many other innovations, was 
the first proprietor of papers in this country to 
take every man who applied to him at the appli- 
cant’s own valuation. This was the usual pro- 
cedure in the case of applicants for work on the 
editorial side of his business: 

“ You wish to join my staff? ” 

“ Yes. I should like very much to join your 
staff.” 

“Why?” 

“ Oh, because I’m sure that I should make a 
great success as a journalist if only I could get a 
start.” 

“ Have you had any experience? ” 

“ Well, no, not exactly.” 

“ Then what makes you think you would be a 
great success as a journalist?” 

“ Well, I’ve always been very fond of writ- 
ing.” 

“ We don’t want writing in this office. We 
want to interest our readers. We don’t want you 
to show how clever you are; we want to make 
them feel how clever they are. Do you think 
you can grasp that? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I quite understand that.” 

“ Very well. . . . Mr. Sandown, this young 
gentleman wishes to work for you. I have no 


HANNIBAL AND HIS STAFF 209 


doubt you will be able to make him useful. He 
will start with a salary of four pounds a week. 
. . . Good morning, Mr. Meadowsweet. If you 
really have the makings of a journalist in you, Mr. 
Sandown will soon find them out. If not, he’ll 
soon fire you out.” 

Away would go young Mr. Meadowsweet, hug- 
ging himself with delight. At one leap, he was a 
full-blown journalist. At one leap, he was draw- 
ing a larger salary than all those clever school- 
fellows of his who had passed Civil Service ex- 
aminations, or gone into banks, or into other of- 
fices. He saw himself lounging in a chair, smok- 
ing unlimited cigarettes, reading manuscripts, and 
sitting as a judge on the efforts of others. He 
talked airily to his friends about Fleet Street, and 
they stared at him with the deepest admiration. 

Mr. Sandown would begin by letting him down 
very lightly. He would give him some proofs to 
read, or a story to read, or send him out to get 
particulars of the number of frozen sheep landed 
at Tilbury during the month of April. In the 
course of a few days, Mr. Meadowsweet would be 
given something a little stiffen A story eight 
thousand words in length would be pitched across 
to him, and he would be told that the idea was 
good, but the writing vile, and that the story was 
far too long. He would receive instructions to 
read the story carefully, and boil it down to fifteen 
hundred words. This would terrify him, and he 


210 


LORD LONDON 


would give himself a week for the accomplishment 
of the terrible task. At the end of the next day, 
Mr. Sandown would ask him for the story, and he 
would confess that he had not yet begun to re- 
write it. He would explain that he was letting 
the Idea develop in his brain. Mr. Sandown 
would then and there make up his mind about Mr. 
Meadowsweet, but he would give him another 
chance because the Chief liked people to have at 
least a month’s trial. Mr. Sandown thought this 
a terrible waste of time and money, but the Chief’s 
word was law. So Mr. Meadowsweet would re- 
main in the office for a month, doing nothing, 
getting in everybody’s way, and drawing a salary 
of four pounds a week. 

At the end of the month, Hannibal, who had an 
extraordinary memory for the most minute details, 
would suddenly send for Mr. Sandown and say to 
him : 

“ What about young Meadowsweet? ” 

“ No good.” 

“ Sure? His father’s an advertiser, you know.” 

“ Dead sure. He’s about as much idea of jour- 
nalism as the fireman.” 

“ All right. Send him to me.” 

Mr. Meadowsweet, like King Agag of death- 
less memory, would come walking Into the room 
delicately. What did this portend? He knew 
that the Chief had received a letter from his father 
that morning, asking that his son might be pro- 


HANNIBAL AND HIS STAFF 21 1 


moted to rather higher-class work. Was he to 
be made Editor of “ You and I ”? Was he to 
be given control of the new monthly magazine 
which was being talked of in the office? Was he 
to be asked to write a serial story for “ Rose- 
mary,” and, if so, would his name be placarded in 
huge type all over London and the Provinces? 
He did not feel that he had done much work at 
present, but everybody knew that the Chief had 
a genius for discovering genius in others. Yes, 
undoubtedly this summons to the Presence meant 
another huge bound upwards in his affairs. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Meadowsweet.” 

“ Good morning, sir.” 

“ I’ve had a letter this morning from your 
father, Mr. Meadowsweet. I gather from it that 
you are not altogether satisfied with your work.” 

“ Well, sir, I should like to do something a lit- 
tle better.” 

“ Quite so, Mr. Meadowsweet. You see, there 
isn’t very much scope in my office for a man of 
your capabilities and ambitions. I could have told 
you that when you first came to me, but you 
wouldn’t have believed it. You would have 
thought that I was unwilling to give you a trial. 
Now, although I knew that the work I could offer 
you was not exactly suited to your undoubted gifts 
for literature, I w'as nevertheless in a position to 
afford you an insight into the routine and techni- 
calities of editorial work. Mr. Sandown tells me 


212 


LORD LONDON 


that you have shown great interest in the work of 
his department, and that you have really learned 
in this short time as much as he can teach you. 
That being the case, I advise you, Mr. Meadow- 
sweet, to lose no time in getting to work on the 
class of paper to which your talents must inevitably 
lead you.” Here Hannibal would rise and gra- 
ciously extend his hand. “ It has been a great 
pleasure to me, Mr. Meadowsweet, to have you in 
my office, and I shall always be pleased to hear of 
your doing well. Give my kind regards to your 
father. Good-by.” 

Mr. Meadowsweet would withdraw from the 
Presence in a kind of beautiful glow. The fact 
that he had been praised, and highly praised, by 
the great Hannibal Quain would, for a time, put 
his intelligence out of working order. But, pres- 
ently, he would begin to perceive dimly that he 
had been sacked. That suspicion would gradually 
crystallize into conviction, thanks to the little note 
from the cashier enclosing a week’s salary, and the 
entirely cordial and kindly manner of the busy Mr. 
Sandown. 

On reaching home that night, he would recount 
the details of the interview with Hannibal to his 
father, who would call Hannibal a great many 
ugly names, and threaten to withdraw his adver- 
tisements from Hannibal’s journals. For the 
next few days, both father and son would go to 
and fro explaining to the world at large that Han- 


HANNIBAL AND HIS STAFF 213 


nibal Quain was a heartless monster, and a base 
wretch, and a low deceiver. The world, espe- 
cially the world of journalism, would hear these 
things gladly, but, for all that, the world of jour- 
nalism would not make a mad dash for the serv- 
ices of young Mr. Meadowsweet. He would find 
it extremely difficult, and probably altogether im- 
possible, to get anybody else to give him as good 
a chance as Hannibal had given him, and he would 
end by going into his father’s business and bully- 
ing small clerks earning small money for hard 
work, or would be shipped off to the Colonies to 
impress his individuality on skeptical Colonials. 
The skeptical Colonials would take a violent fancy 
to young Mr. Meadowsweet while his capital 
lasted, and sit at bars with him helping him to 
curse Hannibal Quain. When his capital was 
gone, they would explain to him that Hannibal 
Quain, at any rate, could turn a halfpenny into a 
penny, and a penny into sixpence. When young 
Mr. Meadowsweet could prove his ability to do 
that, he would have every right to call Hannibal 
Quain a fool and a blackguard for having taken 
him at his own valuation and given him his first 
opportunity in life. 

That is one picture of Hannibal in his office. 
Now take another picture, necessarily rarer, and, 
therefore, swamped by the number of less pleasing 
pictures. 

Mr. Sandown entered Hannibal’s service at the 


214 


LORD LONDON 


age of fifteen. His appearance was not beautiful 
— a thin, pale, rather undersized lad of London 
town. He had no literary pretensions; he was 
engaged, chiefly, to lick envelopes. He first came 
under Hannibal’s notice by getting a piece of in- 
formation on underground London. Hannibal 
had walked one afternoon into the editorial room 
of “ You and I,” and complained that there were 
not enough short, pithy paragraphs of general in- 
terest In the current issue. The Editor — for 
Hannibal had long since been compelled to hand 
over the care of his firstling to another — had 
replied that this was true, the reason being that 
such paragraphs were exceedingly difficult to ob- 
tain. 

“ Nonsense,” replied Hannibal, abruptly. 
“ Put this down.” 

He walked across to the window, looked into 
the street, and saw a man emerging from a man- 
hole in the opposite pavement. He at once began 
dictating a brief paragraph on the life of the un- 
derground workers in London. He proceeded 
fluently for a time, and then hesitated as to the 
amount of wages earned by these men. The Ed- 
itor could not enlighten him, but a pale youth, who 
was busily licking envelopes in the corner, rose 
from his chair, put his finger to his forehead, and 
suggested that he should run down into the street, 
follow the man who had just come up from the 
manhole, and get the information. 


HANNIBAL AND HIS STAFF 215 

Hannibal agreed, and the youth was out of the 
room like a flash. 

“ What’s that boy’s name ? ” asked Hannibal. 

“ Sandown.” 

“ How long has he been here? ” 

“ About six months.” 

“ Good worker? ” 

“ Quite good.” 

“Punctual?” 

“ Very.” 

“ Honest?” 

“ Quite.” 

“ And obviously intelligent. Give him some- 
thing better to do, and let me have a copy of the 
paper each week with his stuff marked. You 
needn’t let him know that I’m watching 
him.” 

The boy came back in less than ten minutes with 
the particulars required for Hannibal’s paragraph, 
and they were duly printed. In three months’ 
time, Sandown, the envelope-licker, was Mr. San- 
down, Sub-Editor of “ You and I.” Six months 
later, he was the Editor of “ You and I,” having 
taken the place of the gentleman who found a diffi- 
culty in obtaining pithy and interesting paragraphs. 
Two years later, Mr. Sandown had five publica- 
tions under his control. When these publications, 
together with the other weekly publications owned 
by Hannibal, were converted into a limited com- 
pany, Mr. Sandown became a director with five 


2i6 


LORD LONDON 


thousand shares to his credit, and a fixed salary of 
fifteen-hundred a year. 

That is the other side of the picture. 


XII 


CLEMENT JEAKES 

A mong the many clever men who are al- 
ways watching for the Great Chance in 
Fleet Street, there was one, about this 
time, called Mr. Clement Jeakes. Mr. Jeakes 
came originally from Dundee. Like many an- 
other shrewd Scotsman, young Clement Jeakes 
had, very early in life, grasped the fact that the 
farther south you went the easier it was to impress 
your personality on your fellow human beings. 
It was difficult, Jeakes found, to make any par- 
ticular impression on the young gentlemen of Dun- 
dee. Their habits of thought being the same, and 
their training being the same, and the air that 
they breathed being the same, they knew what 
Jeakes was going to say before he said it, which 
discounted the witticisms of Jeakes. If Jeakes 
played cards with them, they were just as likely to 
win as Jeakes, which may have lent excitement to 
the game, but was, on the other hand, a waste of 
time for a young man who had made up his mind 
to be rich by the age of forty. 

So Jeakes moved down to Edinburgh. There 
was a scholarly, refined atmosphere about Edin- 
217 


2I8 


LORD LONDON 


burgh which appealed to him. Nobody had very 
much money in Edinburgh, but, at the same time, 
nobody appeared desperately anxious to make 
very much money. Jeakes had a theory that the 
world was divided into two classes — those who 
make money, and those who merely spend it. He 
argued, therefore, that if a young man who wanted 
to make' money went to and fro among people 
who were merely spending money, the odds were 
that the young man’s desire would be fulfilled. 
So he went to Edinburgh. 

He received, in Edinburgh, one of the first use- 
ful lessons of his life. He discovered that his 
theory was not sound. He discovered that there 
is a third class of person, namely, people who 
neither make money, nor spend money, but keep 
money. Jeakes remained six months in Edin- 
burgh ; that was long enough to show him that the 
Edinburgh people were quite determined to keep 
what money they had. 

Jeakes then went farther south — as far as 
Manchester. He had received some training in 
Dundee, and again in Edinburgh, as a journalist; 
in Manchester he joined the staff of a well-known 
daily paper, and was set, after a time, to write up 
little incidents of the street life of Manchester. 
This showed cleverness on the part of the editor, 
for the street life of a great city was precisely the 
life that Jeakes understood and loved. He was 
one of those miraculous young men who are in 


CLEMENT JEAKES 219 

touch with the gossip of every corner of the town. 
He soon got to know, in a miraculous way, which 
publican was going bankrupt, and which barmaid 
was about to run off with which prominent draper, 
and which local billiard-champion was the safest 
to back for the forthcoming tournament, and why 
a certain hotel had fallen into disfavor with the 
Watch Committee. 

Clement Jeakes, as is also the way of this 
type of young man, soon became a well-known 
figure about Manchester. If he walked into a 
bar, there were always three or four people to 
turn round and greet him with “ Hello, Clement! ” 
and to press him to drink with them. The golden- 
haired young lady behind the bar would nod pleas- 
antly, and call him “ Clement,” and put just the 
right amount of soda into his whisky without 
having to ask him how much he wanted. This 
happened eveiywhere, and young Jeakes might 
have consumed fifty drinks at the expense of other 
people any night of his life. But he was far too 
clever for that. He was so clever, indeed, that 
he could refuse forty-six drinks out of the fifty 
without offending anybody. 

Jeakes could walk into any theater at the mere 
price of a nod to the man at the door, and it was 
just the same at the music-halls. But he was at 
his best, probably, when the local races came on. 
For a week before the races, Jeakes was in tre- 
mendous request. He had that subtle, inexplica- 


220 


LORD LONDON 


ble trick of appearing to impart information about 
a horse without actually committing himself. No- 
body wondered how it was that Jeakes should 
always have special information about horses; 
they just took the special information for granted. 
If a man had taken a violent fancy to a horse, he 
would lead Jeakes aside, and question him, in 
strictest secrecy, about that horse. Jeakes never 
discouraged a man with a violent fancy. If the 
horse won, that man was ready to do anything for 
Jeakes; Jeakes was great; Jeakes was a marvel; 
Jeakes was the nicest, and the cleverest, and the 
best fellow round town. On the other hand, if 
the horse lost, the man could not positively swear 
that Jeakes had advised him to back it. Indeed, 
when he came to search his memory, he rather 
fancied that he ought to have taken warning from 
a certain look in the eye of Jeakes. Jeakes, then, 
had known all along that the horse would lose, 
so that, either way, Jeakes remained a marvel. 

When he had been serving up his popular little 
paragraphs for about twelve months, Jeakes went 
to his editor and politely asked for an increase of 
salary. 

“What are you getting now, Mr. Jeakes?” 
asked the editor. 

“ Three-ten,” replied Jeakes. 

“And what do you want?” 

“ Six.” 

“ Six pounds a week?” gasped the editor. 


CLEMENT JEAKES 


221 


“ Yes. And Em worth it.” 

“ And suppose I can’t see my way to such a large 
increase, Mr. Jeakes?” 

“ Then I’ll have to be moving on,” said Jeakes. 

The editor referred the matter to his proprie- 
tor, who, knowing little or nothing of Jeakes, since 
his interest in the paper was confined to the portion 
that had least to do with the selling of it, namely, 
the leader, and being quite unaccustomed to such 
sudden jumps in his salary-list, told the editor that 
Jeakes must be content with four pounds a week 
or leave. 

Jeakes left, and, still progressing upwards, went 
still farther south until he came to Birmingham. 
Strange to relate, Jeakes’s chatty little column was 
known in Birmingham. This surprised Jeakes, 
but he was careful not to show surprise. He de- 
manded his six pounds from the editor who was 
foolish enough to volunteer the information that 
he had heard of Jeakes, and got five. Jeakes went 
to work with a will, quickly apprehended the dif- 
ferences between the Manchester man-about-town 
and the Birmingham man-about-town, and re- 
peated his success. In three months, the private 
lives of the prominent citizens of Birmingham 
were an open secret to Jeakes. Once again he 
found himself hailed in the principal bars, and 
smiled upon by golden-haired barmaids, and drawn 
into quiet corners and consulted as to the chances 
of a certain horse in a certain race. And Birming- 


222 


LORD LONDON 


ham had the advantage over Manchester that 
Manchester had had over Dundee ; with each stage 
of the journey southwards, Jeakes found that peo- 
ple were easier to handle, and he also found, as 
we have seen, that he made more money. 

Obviously, therefore, Jeakes was only waiting 
for the opportunity to break into London, and this 
came about through a chance meeting with the 
editor of a London halfpenny evening paper who 
was paying a visit to Birmingham in his capacity 
as an honored member of the Institute of Journal- 
ists. This paper was called the “ Planet,” and was 
well-known to Jeakes as giving the best sporting 
tips of any paper in the British Isles. A smart 
man was wanted to do smart notes on town topics, 
and Jeakes got the job at a salary of six pounds a 
week. He was a little disappointed in the salary, 
but he had broken into London, and London was 
full of possibilities to a man with the brains, to 
which he had now added experience, of Clement 
Jeakes. 

Jeakes, as we have said, was determined to be a 
rich man by the age of forty, and he saw quite 
clearly that he would never be a rich man so long 
as he remained a working journalist. The race- 
course, while it proves a Slough of Despond to 
young men of weak character, often inspires young 
men of stronger character to attempt great things. 
They see before their eyes all the evidences of 
wealth. Men are pointed out to them who have 


CLEMENT JEAKES 223 

started life with nothing and have amassed huge 
fortunes. All the talk is of money, and the evi- 
dences of what money can buy are flaunted before 
their eyes. Jeakes, as he looked hungrily at the 
portly millionaires strolling to and fro in the most 
expensive enclosure, huge cigars in their mouths, 
huge golden chains across their waistcoats, pockets, 
no doubt, stuffed with bank notes, swore to be 
even such an one or know the reason why. There 
was nothing to stop him. He had brains, he had 
a knowledge of men and things, he was energetic, 
he had health, and he had pluck. The one thing 
that he now wanted was the Great Chance. 

One of the men most envied and admired by 
Jeakes in these days was Hannibal Quain. He 
had heard all about Hannibal, of course, long be- 
fore he came to London; he knew that Hannibal 
was about the same age as himself, that he had 
started much as Jeakes had started, and that he 
was now a very rich mdn. Jeakes set himself the 
task of getting to know what Hannibal’s next am- 
bition was likely to be ; once get to know that, and 
find the means of gratifying it, and he could attach 
his small boat to this big one, and float down the 
stream at the same pace. 

On a certain afternoon, just as Hannibal had 
returned from lunch, a card was brought in to him. 
It bore the name of Mr. Clement Jeakes, the name 
of the “ Planet,” and the words, “ Important busi- 
ness ” written with a pen. Hannibal liked to see 


224 


LORD LONDON 


newspaper-men; he liked to get to know them, 
and he liked them to get to know him. He liked 
them to see that he was a very human sort of 
person, despite the stories that were told of his 
harshness, and, being a very human sort of person, 
he probably liked them to discover for themselves 
how young he was, and how clever he was, and 
what a perfect office he possessed, and by what a 
finely-trained staff he was surrounded. 

Mr. Jeakes, after being kept waiting a sufficient 
time to inspire him with the necessary degree of 
awe — if he was capable of being inspired with 
awe, which he wasn’t — was shown into the Pres- 
ence. He saw, standing behind a large and hand- 
some desk, a young man, clean-shaven, fresh-com- 
plexioned, with a long fair fringe brushed 
slant-wise across his forehead. It was a relief to 
him to know that Hannibal Quain looked exactly 
like his portraits in the papers; so many public 
men were disappointing in that respect. 

“ Good-day, Mr. Jeakes,” said Hannibal, affa- 
bly. It was one of his little habits to speak to 
strangers as though he had known them quite well 
for at least ten years. 

Mr. Jeakes advanced and shook hands. He 
also had a charm of his own, and he knew it. 
Both these men, who were destined to do great 
things together, relied to a large extent upon their 
personalities. Hannibal’s was now a commanding 
personality; he was good at close quarters, better 


CLEMENT JEAKES 225 

still behind a desk or at the end of a long table, 
but best of all in the chair at a big public dinner. 
He had it in him to rule a crowd. Mr. Jeakes, on 
the other hand, was not at his best with a crowd. 
The charm of his personality made itself better 
felt across a small table at lunch, or smoking a 
cigar over the fire, or in the privacy of his own 
office. 

“ Glad to meet you, Mr. Quain. You have 
been one of my idols ever since I took to journal- 
ism.” 

“When was that?” asked Hannibal, quickly. 

“ About ten years ago,” replied Mr. Jeakes. 

Hannibal waved gracefully to a chair, and they 
both sat down. Hannibal had taken a fancy to 
Mr. Jeakes. He had seen at once that here was 
a shrewd fellow — shrewd above the average. 
He did not feel that he had quite taken 
Mr. Jeakes’s measure, but he felt little doubt that 
he would take it. Hannibal was never afraid of 
people’s being too clever; he was very much afraid 
of their being too stupid. 

“ You wish to see me on a matter of business, 
Mr. Jeakes? ” 

“ Yes. I have an option on a paper with great 
possibilities in it, and I thought you might like 
to take up my option.” 

“ What paper is it? ” 

“ ‘ The Evening.’ ” 

“ I don’t publish daily papers.” 


226 


LORD LONDON 


“ No, but you will, Mr. Quain,” said Jeakes. 

The quiet assurance of the tone rather surprised 
Hannibal. 

“Why shall I?” 

“ Because you were born to do it.” 

“ My hands are very full already.” 

“ I know that. It’s because your hands are 
so full, Mr. Quain, that I’ve come to you with 
this option. I don’t want to take it to a one-string 
man. I know your one-string men; they can’t 
grasp more than one idea at a time. You’ve got 
both your hands full of strings, but the strings 
are all in order, and you can easily shift them all 
into your left hand, and take up this new string 
with your right. It’ll want a bit of pulling, but 
that’s where the fun comes in.” 

“ When does your option on the ‘ Evening ’ 
expire, Mr. Jeakes?” 

“ The day after to-morrow.” 

“ That’s not giving me very long to consider 
the matter.” 

“ If I may say so, Mr. Quain, you don’t need 
a long time to consider it. From what I’ve ob- 
served of your methods, you’re not the man to 
hesitate, and shilly-shally, and potter about like 
an old hen. I guess you know now whether you 
want the ‘ Evening ’ or whether you don’t want 
it.” 

“ You’re quite right, Mr. Jeakes. I don’t want 


CLEMENT JEAKES 227 

Mr. Jeakes rose and reached for his hat. 
“ I’m sorry,” he said, with a mournful look at 
Hannibal. 

“ Why are you sorry? ” asked Hannibal, with- 
out rising. 

“ Because the ‘ Evening ’ is going to have the 
biggest circulation of any evening paper in Lon- 
don. It’s going to knock the ‘ Planet ’ into a 
cocked hat. That’s why I’m sorry, Mr. Quain.” 

“ And who will work this astounding change in 
the fortunes of the ‘Evening,’ Mr. Jeakes?” 

“I shall.” 

“You?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Don’t be in a hurry, Mr. Jeakes. Sit down 
again.” 

Mr.^^Jeakes sat down again. 

“ Tell me,” continued Hannibal, “ how you will 
make such an enormous success of this paper.” 

“ That’s a pretty cool suggestion,” said Mr. 
Jeakes, “ but I’ll comply with it because I’m not 
afraid of your stealing my ideas.” 

“ Thank you,” said Hannibal, simply. 

“ Oh,” explained Clement Jeakes candidly, 
“ I’m not prepared to say that you wouldn’t steal 
them if you could. I don’t know you well enough, 
Mr. Quain, to have as much confidence in you as 
all that, and my experience teaches me that nine 
men out of every ten in this business — and that’s 
taking a pretty low average — will steal any idea 


228 


LORD LONDON 


that they can lay their hands on. You may be 
the hundredth man, Mr. Quain; I shall soon find 
out whether you are or not. 

“ But the reason why I said I wasn’t afraid of 
your stealing my ideas was simply because I don’t 
believe that you, or any other man in Fleet Street, 
could handle the ‘ Evening ’ the way I mean to 
handle it. There are lots of clever men in Fleet 
Street, but those who have had the training haven’t 
got the enterprise, and those who have got the 
enterprise haven’t got the brains. It so happens 
that I’ve got all three — training, enterprise, and 
brains. 

“ I shall make the ‘ Evening,’ to begin with, a 
human paper. There will be nothing in the hu- 
man line beneath our notice. We shall range 
from the latest speech of the Prime Minister to 
the domestic servant’s hat. We shall be the first 
to discover the whereabouts of a murderer in 
hiding, we shall give the fullest reports of so- 
ciety divorce cases, and we shall also print the 
finest poetry by the most human poets of the 
day. 

“ I intend to remodel the organization for dis- 
tribution. You will not only find the ‘ Evening ’ 
first on the streets with any big piece of news, but 
you will find the early editions, which will contain 
as much interesting matter as an ordinary weekly 
paper, as far south as Portsmouth, and as far 
north as Leicester. 


CLEMENT JEAKES 229 

“ And even now, Mr. Quain, I have not shown 
you my trump card.” 

“ You interest me very much, Mr. Jeakes. 
What is your trump card? ” 

” I’ll give you three guesses,” said Clement 
Jeakes, leaning back happily in his chair and smil- 
ing at Hannibal. 

“ I never guess.” 

“ Pardon me, you’re guessing as hard as you 
can inside your head at this moment. None of 
the things I’ve mentioned up to the present, Mr. 
Quain, will sell an evening paper worth a cent — 
not even the first news of a big murder mystery. 
Shall I tell you what sells halfpenny evening pa- 
pers? Betting tips, Mr. Quain.” 

“ D’you really mean that? ” 

“ I do. Take the ‘ Planet.’ There are lots of 
clever men writing for the ‘ Planet.’ We’ve got 
the cleverest dramatic critic in London, and we’ve 
got the best head-liner, and we’ve got the best po- 
lice-court reporter, and we’ve got the best man for 
writing up town topics.” 

“ That’s yourself, Mr. Jeakes, I believe.” 

“ It is. But it isn’t the dramatic critic who sells 
the paper, or the head-liner, or the police-court 
reporter, or me; and it isn’t the whole lot of us 
combined. The man who sells the paper is the 
man who gives the tips for the day’s racing, and 
his tips sell the paper because he is more often 
right than anybody else, so that he has gained 


230 


LORD LONDON 


the confidence of the man in the street, and the 
man in the street follows him. I suppose you 
don’t realize, Mr. Quain, what racing means to 
the man in the street? ” 

“ I certainly didn’t realize that it meant as much 
as all that.” 

“ Do you do any racing yourself?” 

“ Never.” 

“ Never been to a race-meeting in your life? ” 

“ Yes, I’ve been to the Derby, and I’ve been to 
Ascot, and Goodwood.” 

“ Just the ordinary social functions,” observed 
Clement Jeakes, with no little scorn. “ I thought 
as much. And yet I suppose you would say that 
you thoroughly understand the man in the street ! ” 

“ I should have said so ten minutes ago, but I 
see now that I don’t. I think I understand a 
great many sections of society, but it has been left 
to you, Mr. Jeakes, to show me one section that 
I don’t understand.” 

“ Well, then, seeing that the man in the street 
is the chief purchaser of the halfpenny evening 
paper, I don’t think you could very well make a 
success of the ‘ Evening,’ Mr. Quain, without my 
help.” 

“ Perhaps not, but I haven’t bought it yet.” 

“ You’re going to buy it.” 

“Am I?” 

“ Certainly. I can see it in your face.” 

“ That’s very clever of you, Mr. Jeakes.” 


CLEMENT JEAKES 231 

“ Yes, I am very clever.” 

Hannibal suddenly remembered that he had 
made use of just such a retort at a certain critical 
moment in his own career, and his heart warmed 
toward Mr. Jeakes. We have seen that he had 
made up his mind, some little time before this, 
to have a daily paper of his own. He had never 
relinquished the idea, and had been steadily get- 
ting together as much information as he could 
with regard to daily newspapers. True, his 
thoughts and tastes lay rather in the direction of 
morning papers than evening papers, but a daily 
was a daily, and he would learn more in six months 
from running the ‘ Evening ’ than he would learn 
in ten years from asking questions. Even sup- 
posing that he lost a few thousands over it, he was 
making money so quickly that that would not mat- 
ter, and he had no objection to buying his experi- 
ence at a reasonable price. 

He looked across his desk at Clement Jeakes. 
He saw before him a hard-headed, clean-shaven, 
shrewd, clever little Scotsman, with no illusions, 
no “ frills,” no airs and graces; a man who badly 
wanted his chance in life, and who would work 
himself to the bone to make a success of it if he 
got it. Jeakes had already said enough for Han- 
nibal to see that he had the makings of a very 
successful editor in him; if he could so arrange 
with Jeakes that it was to the interest of Jeakes 
to stand by his paper through thick and thin, Han- 


232 


LORD LONDON 


nibal felt that the ‘ Evening ’ might become the 
success that Jeakes anticipated. 

“ What do you want for your option, Mr. 
Jeakes?” 

Mr. Jeakes named a considerable sum. Han- 
nibal did not wince. 

“ And what do you want for yourself? ” 

“ Twenty pounds a week,” replied Jeakes, “ un- 
til we begin to show a profit. After that, a 
share of the profits on a sliding scale.” 

They went into the matter of the sliding scale, 
and Hannibal made some notes on a piece of pa- 
per. It was quite clear that, if the “ Evening ” 
did become a very big success, Mr. Jeakes stood to 
make a considerable amount of money, but Han- 
nibal was never greedy, which is one of the reasons 
for his fantastic success. As we have seen in the 
case of Mr. Sandown, he was always willing to 
work on the profit-sharing system, nor could he 
understand how any employer could be so blind to 
his own interests as to refuse to work on this 
basis. He had proved that the man who is willing 
to take a fairly large salary, with no prospects of 
increasing it by divisional profits, does about a 
quarter of the work of the man who is willing 
to take a smaller salary with the hope of a fair 
share in the results of his labors. 

The next morning, Hannibal had before him the 
various books giving the details of the circulation 
of the “ Evening,” and the advertisement revenue. 


CLEMENT JEAKES 233 

and the cost of running. He had with him his 
chief accountant, and his secretary, and, of course, 
Hasdrubal. Within twenty-four hours from the 
time that Mr. Clement Jeakes sent in his card, it 
was known in Fleet Street that Hannibal Quain 
had bought the “ Evening,” and that Clement 
Jeakes was to be the new editor, with a handsome 
salary and a share of the profits. 

Hannibal dined at home that night. During 
the course of dinner, he mentioned to Sheila — 
they had no guests — that, for the first time in 
his life, he had bought a paper. 

“ What paper? ” asked Sheila. 

“ A paper called the ‘ Evening,’ my dear.” 

“ What’s that? I never heard of it.” 

“ You will,” said Hannibal. “ Just wait until 
Jeakes gets to work.” 

“ Who in the world is Jeakes? ” 

“ Oh, he’s the man who will edit it. You’ll 
meet him to-morrow. I’m bringing him home to 
dinner.” 

And that was how Clement Jeakes realized his 
ambition. 


XIII 


THE “ LITTLE DAILY ” 

T he enormous success of the “ Evening ” 
— for Clement Jeakes was as good as his 
word — led quite naturally to the realiza- 
tion of Hannibal’s greatest scheme up to the pres- 
ent, namely, the establishment of a morning daily 
newspaper. When it became known in Fleet 
Street that Hannibal Quain was preparing to 
launch upon the British Isles a daily morning pa- 
per at the price of a halfpenny, everybody thought 
that the young man had at last taken leave of his 
senses. As a matter of fact, there was a half- 
penny morning newspaper already in existence, 
but the sale of that little sheet was so small 
that experienced journalists had assured each other 
of the impossibility of making a morning paper 
pay at the price. Indeed, they could see no room 
for any new morning daily paper of any kind, 
forgetting that every morning newspaper already 
in existence had been received with just such doubt- 
ful waggings of the head. 

There were, of course, very real dilfficulties in 
Hannibal’s way. For the small sum of one half- 
234 


THE “LITTLE DAILY 


235 


penny, he could not possibly give the public a news- 
paper even approaching the size of the penny 
morning papers; the cost of paper alone 
prohibited that. If, then, he cut down his paper 
to one-half the size of the penny papers, how was 
he to leave himself enough space, apart from ed- 
itorial matter, to include sufficient advertisements 
to make the paper a financial success? That was 
one enormous obstacle. Hannibal, as we now 
know, solved it by printing the essence of the 
news of the day instead of the full reports printed 
by the penny papers, and by keeping his literary 
matter, such as dramatic criticisms and book re- 
views down to the smallest possible limits ; he then 
placed a price upon his spaces for advertisements 
that could be justified only by a very large circula- 
tion. 

It now remained to secure that circulation. 
How was it to be done? Lord London himself 
declares that the “ Little Daily ” leaped into al- 
most instant popularity because he gave the public 
for one halfpenny exactly the same paper that 
the other dailies were giving them for threepence, 
twopence, and a penny. We think ourselves that 
he overlooks one very important asset contributing 
to his success, namely, the woman reader. 

Until the appearance of the “ Little Daily,” the 
women of England had looked upon the daily 
newspaper as a thing which was useful when you 
wanted to find a servant, or when you wanted to 


LORD LONDON 


236 

line the bottom of a drawer. Apart from these 
functions, it was rather a nuisance, often being the 
cause of bad temper on the part of their husbands, 
or, when the husbands were in a good temper, 
encouraging them to inflict boring extracts upon 
the remainder of the household. But, when they 
took up the early numbers of the “ Little Daily,” 
they discovered, to their amazement, that they 
were actually deriving interest and even enjoy- 
ment from a daily newspaper. This gave them 
thrills of pride. It made one feel so superior to 
sit down in the afternoon with the daily paper, 
even though one might only read the feuilleton. 
Quite apart from the feuilleton, however, they 
discovered a number of interesting little para- 
graphs, eight or ten lines in length, which were 
easy to read and proved to be unusually full of 
fascination. 

They found, every day, a page called the Mag- 
azine Page, which told them how to make dainty 
little dishes out of nothing, and how to make beau- 
tiful dresses for almost nothing, and how to 
preserve the complexion, together with much 
interesting information on the doings of famous 
actresses and the members of the aristocracy. 

And the husbands, too, found things to read in 
the “ Little Daily ” that they had not found in 
their ordinary daily paper. They found, in par- 
ticular, signed articles, on the same page as the 
leader, by some of the most brilliant writers of 


THE “ LITTLE DAILY 


237 


the day. The particular favorite among these 
writers was a man whose name is still remem- 
bered with loving admiration, not only by the 
public, but also by literary men and journalists, 
who recognized in him a descriptive genius such 
as seldom finds his way into Fleet Street. 

Whatever subject he chose to write about, this 
delightful artist endowed with the magic of his 
phrases and the melody of the purest prose, until 
the words leaped out from the paper and printed 
themselves on the brains and in the hearts of his 
readers. 

Hannibal would be the first to admit the debt 
that he owed to this special writer, who actually 
died, all too young, in the service of his paper. 
When the Boer War broke out, he begged to be 
sent to the front. Hannibal knew well enough 
that the result would be a series of war articles 
such as no English newspaper had yet been privi- 
leged to publish; he also knew that the health of 
the man was not too good, and he therefore re- 
fused to send him to Africa. But the writer 
begged and begged again, until, at last, he had 
his way. Unhappily, he was stricken down with 
fever in beleaguered Ladysmith, and died in the 
arms of an artist friend with a phrase on his lips 
which, in its simple lucidity, was typical of his 
literary style; the phrase was, “ It’s a sideways 
ending to it all.” 

The reader must pardon this little digression. 


238 


LORD LONDON 


for any history, however modest, of the founda- 
tion of the “ Little Daily ” would be incomplete 
unless it contained a sincere and admiring tribute 
to the man who still remains the finest descriptive 
writer that ever worked for Hannibal’s paper. 

Hannibal, during these stirring days that pre- 
ceded the publication of the first number, never 
drank, rarely ate, and slept but seldom. For al- 
most a month, Sheila hardly set eyes on him. In 
order to save time, he had a bed made up in the 
office, and, like his great namesake, would snatch 
an hour of sleep whenever a convenient oppor- 
tunity presented itself. For a whole month be- 
fore publication, the paper was written and printed 
in full every night, just as it would appear when 
launched upon the public. 

Hannibal’s hand was everywhere, sometimes 
touching up headlines, or the fashion notes, or the 
police-court reports, or the leader, or the criti- 
cisms, but, for the most part, cutting down, cutting 
down, cutting down. This was the lesson that 
he found the hardest to teach to his staff — the 
absolute necessity of boiling down every para- 
graph to its smallest possible limit. Reporters 
who had been accustomed to their column or half 
column of small close type, scratched their heads 
and gazed in bewilderment at their “ stuff ” when 
they saw it in the paper. The gentleman who 
wrote the Parliamentary sketch, the best obtain- 
able, found himself compelled to cut out the ma- 


THE “ LITTLE DAILY ” 


239 


jority of those flowing hyperboles for which he 
was famous. The leader-writer protested, almost 
with tears in his eyes, that he could not do himself 
justice in a meager four hundred words. 

“ I don’t want you to do yourself justice,” 
said Hannibal. “ I want you to do me justice.” 

“ But I can’t do you justice, sir, if I haven’t 
room to turn round in.” 

“ I don’t want you to turn round. Your front 
view is quite sufficient.” 

“ But am I not to make my leader as effective 
as possible?” 

” Certainly.” 

“ Then you really must allow me more space. 
I’ve been a leader-writer for ten years, and — ” 

“ That’s just the trouble,” said Hannibal, 
calmly. “ I ought to have engaged a leader- 
writer who had never written a leader before in 
his life.” 

“ Of course, sir, if you’re dissatisfied with my 
services — ” 

” Don’t be silly. Just take this down. Miss 
Bach.” 

He thereupon dictated, without pausing for one 
instant, a leader four hundred words in length, 
which contained every point made by the experi- 
enced leader-writer and was far easier to read. 

“ That’s what I want,” said Hannibal. 

“ Oh, very well,” was the reply. But the 
leader-writer found that it took him nearly six 


240 


LORD LONDON 


months to get all his points into so small a space. 
He used to marvel that Hannibal should pay him 
such a handsome salary for such a very small 
amount of work. He did not realize, and the 
other members of the stalf did not realize, that 
Hannibal was not paying him for what he wrote, 
but for what he left out. This was one of the 
hardest pills for Fleet Street to swallow. They 
had become so accustomed to being paid, more or 
less, according to the space they filled in the paper, 
that it seemed absolute madness to pay a man 
double the salary for not filling space. Those 
who tumbled to the idea quickest, kept their berths ; 
the others, like Mr. Meadowsweet, went away 
with their hearts full of bitterness. 

Nothing annoyed Hannibal so much, in those 
strenuous days, as to be told that anything he 
wanted was impossible. 

“ Nothing is impossible,” he used to say, “ to 
the man who is really determined. I don’t ask 
you to go beyond the limits of human capability; 
I don’t ask you to make a journey to Mars and 
bring back a descriptive account of the life led 
by the people on Mars, although I have no doubt 
that we shall print such a description in the ‘ Little 
Daily ’ long before people expect it. But there’s 
nothing on this planet beyond the reach of the 
journalist who has sufficient enterprise, confidence 
in himself, and an editor behind him who is pre- 
pared to back him with his authority and unlimited 


THE “ LITTLE DAILY 


241 


expenses. Whatever happens on the surface of 
the globe that is of interest to the reading public 
must be written up in my paper; every man or 
woman of interest to the public must be described 
and interviewed for my paper. You tell me, for 
example, that there are certain people who refuse 
to be interviewed. Let them refuse. The very 
fact that they are known to have refused inter- 
views to every other paper will make our inter- 
view the more valuable.” 

Shortly after this pronouncement had fallen 
from Hannibal’s lips, the great Austin Luckett ar- 
rived in London. Austin Luckett was famous the 
world over as the man who had done more to 
advance British interests in Cape Colony than any 
other man living. He was, as everybody ad- 
mitted, the uncrowned King of the Cape. Much 
as he had done, however, he made no secret of 
the fact that the ambition of his life was to see 
the whole map of Africa painted pink. A great 
portion of it, thanks largely to his endeavors, had 
already been painted pink; Austin Luckett was, 
therefore, a man after Hannibal’s own heart. 

As soon as he heard that Austin Luckett was 
on his way to London, Hannibal dispatched one 
of his cleverest writers to Madeira, with strict 
injunctions to travel from Madeira to Southamp- 
ton by the same boat as Luckett, and to secure an 
interview with him at all costs. The man went, 
but returned empty-handed. Hannibal was furi- 


242 


LORD LONDON 


ous. He would listen to no excuses, no explana- 
tions. He informed the wretched journalist that 
a man who could travel for several days on a 
steamship with another man, and yet could not 
persuade him to say something for publication, 
was quite out of place in his office. He did not 
dismiss him, because he realized that Luckett was 
an exceptionally tough subject, but the journalist 
waited long for an increase of salary that would 
have come with both hands had he been successful. 

Hannibal then set another man — also one of 
his very best — to catch Luckett at his hotel. He 
instructed him to spare neither time, pains, nor 
money. The “ Little Daily ” was still in the pre- 
carious state of infancy, and Hannibal realized 
that the infant must evince some sign of precocity 
unless it wished to be smothered by its elder 
brothers. 

The second representative devoted three days 
to the task of endeavoring to buttonhole the great 
Austin Luckett. At the end of that time, he re- 
turned to the office, pale, dispirited, and quite 
anxious to avoid a personal interview with Han- 
nibal. Hannibal, however, was not to be balked. 

“What did you do?” he asked. 

“ I did everything.” 

“ Except interview Luckett.” 

“ Yes. I don’t believe there’s a journalist liv- 
ing who could squeeze an interview out of Austin 
Luckett.” 


THE “ LITTLE DAILY ” 


243 


“ Yes, there is,” said Hannibal. 

“ I should be very glad to know his name,” re- 
torted the luckless one. 

“ You shall. His name is Hannibal Quain.” 

Hannibal noted the smile of satisfaction that 
stole over the face of the man opposite him. 
He knew that it would soon be all over the office, 
and, for the matter of that, all over Fleet Street, 
that Hannibal Quain had determined to interview 
Austin Luckett himself. Well, he had let himself 
in for it, and he must not fail. If he did, he 
would never again be able to enforce his maxim 
that a journalist should be able to do anything that 
there was to be done on this planet. He had not 
the slightest idea how to get at Austin Luckett; 
he knew no friends of Luckett’s, for Luckett 
seemed to have no friends in this country; he must 
just take his chance like any ordinary interviewer. 

Hannibal decided to give himself one clear day 
for the business. He knew that Luckett was a 
very early riser, for the great South African might 
be seen riding in the Row any morning at seven 
o’clock. Hannibal, therefore, rose at five, and at 
six o’clock entered the hotel in Piccadilly at which 
Austin Luckett always stayed when on a visit to 
London. The sleepy night-porter, who was just 
going off duty, asked him his business. 

“ I want a suite of apartments,” said Hannibal. 

The night-porter fell back a pace, and touched 
his cap. 


244 


LORD LONDON 


“ My luggage,” explained Hannibal, “ will be 
here directly. My man is bringing it off the boat 
train from Plymouth. What suites have you?” 

The night-porter was quite accustomed to peo- 
ple arriving and asking for rooms at all hours of 
the night, especially visitors who had arrived by 
boat from America or South Africa. He stepped 
into the office, there being no clerks on duty at 
this early hour, and ran his finger down the ledger. 

“ We’ve a suite on the third floor, sir — sitting- 
room, bedroom, and bath-room.” 

” Is that the best suite in the hotel? ” demanded 
Hannibal. 

“ No, sir, not quite the best suite. We’ve Mr. 
Austin Luckett staying here, and he always has 
the best suite.” 

“ That’s a beastly nuisance ! I don’t like the 
third floor — too high up. When I come to Lon- 
don, I like to forget all about sky-scrapers. 
Haven’t you anything on the same floor as the 
best suite? ” 

" Yes, sir. We’ve a nice bedroom on the sec- 
ond floor which is alongside the best suite. Would 
you like to see it?” 

“ Yes, I’ll see that. Send my luggage up di- 
rectly it comes, will you ? ” He slipped a sov- 
ereign into the hand of the night-porter, who was 
so gratified by this gentlemanly behavior that he 
omitted, for the time being, the trifling ceremony 
of asking Hannibal to register his name. 


THE “LITTLE DAILY 


245 


Hannibal was escorted upstairs by an equally 
sleepy waiter, who bowed him into his room, in- 
quired whether he wished for anything at the 
moment, and then retired. Hannibal was now 
separated from his prey merely by the thickness 
of an hotel wall. So far as the thickness of the 
wall went, it might just as well have been made 
of steel, but the corridor was deserted, and the 
door of Mr. Luckett’s suite was not nearly so 
thick as the wall. 

Hannibal, as soon as the yawning waiter had 
retired, opened his door and looked into the cor- 
ridor. Not a soul was stirring in the corridor, 
but from the other side of Mr. Luckett’s door 
came the rumbling noise of a deep bass voice. 
Presently the voice ceased to rumble, and was 
answered by a light baritone. That, no doubt, 
was the voice of Mr. Luckett’s valet. Mr. Luck- 
ett spoke again shortly and sharply, and then came 
the noise of a heavy splash. Mr. Luckett, pre- 
sumably, was now in his bath. 

Hannibal still waited in the doorway of his 
bedroom, wondering whether he should knock at 
Mr. Luckett’s door and endeavor to gain admit- 
tance on pretense of borrowing a stud. The ruse 
was very feeble, he knew, but he could think of 
nothing better at the moment. He had prac- 
tically decided to act upon it, when the door of 
Mr. Luckett’s room suddenly opened, and the 
valet came out, closing the door behind him. He 


246 


LORD LONDON 


glanced suspiciously at Hannibal, who, quick as 
lightning, beckoned to him. The man cautiously 
approached. 

“ Say,” said Hannibal, with as near an imita- 
tion of Mr. Hamm’s accent as he could manage 
on the spur of the moment, “ are you going down- 
town? ” 

“ No,” said the man. 

“ Well, that’s a pity,” said Hannibal, taking 
care not to raise his voice, although the splashing 
in Mr. Luckett’s room would have prevented that 
eminent statesman from overhearing any dialogue 
in the corridor. “ I have a most important cable 
that I wish sent off from the cable-office down at 
Charing Cross, and the staff of this hotel don’t 
inspire me with confidence. If you could spare 
the time to jump into a cab and dispatch this cable 
for me, it would be worth a five-pound-note to 
you, and you could be back almost as soon as your 
master is out of his bath.” 

As he was speaking, Hannihal gradually re- 
treated into his room, and the valet, lured on by 
the mention of the five-pound-note, followed. 

“ For the matter of that,” said the valet, “ I 
don’t ever stop with him when he’s dressing. I 
just put all his things ready, and then I take the 
dog for a walk in the park. He likes to see the 
dog there when he’s riding.” 

Hannibal might have saved his five-pound-note 
had he known that the valet would not be returning 


THE “ LITTLE DAILY 


247 


to Mr. Luckett’s rooms for an hour or so, but he 
did not grudge the money. The information was 
cheap at the price. 

“ Well,” he said, “ if you could just manage to 
leave this cablegram for me at Charing Cross, I 
should be very greatly obliged, and you could still 
be in the park by the time your master arrives 
there. Isn’t that so? ” 

“ Certainly, sir,” agreed the valet. 

Hannibal sat down at a small table on which 
lay the usual writing materials. He hastily scrib- 
bled an imaginary address, filled in the message 
in an imaginary code, and handed the paper to 
the valet, together with a couple of sovereigns for 
the message and the promised five-pound-note. 
The valet, highly delighted with his luck, disap- 
peared down the corridor. Mr. Austin Luckett 
was now at Hannibal’s mercy. 

Hannibal once again slipped into the corridor, 
made quite sure that there was nobody stirring, 
and then laid his hand on the handle of Mr. Luck- 
ett’s door. The door yielded, and Hannibal 
entered, softly closing the door behind him. He 
found himself in a small entrance-hall; a door on 
his left led into the bedroom, the sitting-room 
being beyond the bedroom. The door of the 
bath-room was immediately opposite the door that 
led to the corridor. Mr. Luckett, evidently, was 
still in his bath. 

Hannibal, taking his courage in both hands. 


248 


LORD LONDON 


advanced to the door of the bath-room and 
knocked. The sound of splashing suddenly 
ceased. Hannibal repeated the knock. 

“ Come in,” roared Mr. Luckett. Hannibal 
at once opened the door, and went into the bath- 
room. 

Austin Luckett was never a handsome man. He 
had a powerful face, and a powerful frame, but 
his greatest admirers could scarcely have called 
him handsome. As he sat in his bath, staring at 
Hannibal in open-mouthed surprise, he was cer- 
tainly not the lady-novelist’s ideal of an Empire- 
builder. He was too fleshy, too heavy beneath 
the eyes, and much too astonished. Empire- 
builders, as they appear in the pages of novels, 
are invariably as cool and imperturbable as Sher- 
lock Holmes, even when complete strangers walk 
into their bath-rooms at a quarter-past-six in the 
morning. 

Hannibal was very glad to see the look of blank 
bewilderment on the face of Austin Luckett. 
Since he had made up his mind to corner the 
South African, he could not very well have had 
him at a better advantage than in his bath. He 
found himself wondering, as he met the amazed 
glare of the great man, what the great Napoleon 
would have done under the circumstances. 

Mr. Luckett spoke first. Seeing that he was 
the host, this was quite correct. 

“ Who the devil are you ? ” he demanded. 


THE “ LITTLE DAILY 


“ One of your warmest admirers,” replied Han- 
nibal. 

“ Get out of it! D’ye hear? Get to hell out 
of this I ” 

“ Certainly,” said Hannibal. “ But I ought to 
tell you, Mr. Luckett, that I’ve some important 
information for you.” 

Mr. Luckett, mechanically and vainly endeavor- 
ing to reach with his well-soaped hand the one 
spot between his shoulder-blades that he never 
could reach, looked Hannibal over from head to 
foot. “ I don’t want your information,” he 
growled. ‘‘ Will you get out of it, or shall I 
ring the bell and have you thrown out? ” 

“ You can ring the bell if you like, and you 
can order me to be thrown out if you like, but 
you’ll lose a piece of information that would be 
of the greatest value to you, and you’ll also lose 
the support of the most influential newspaper in 
this country.” 

A look of appreciation slowly spread itself over 
Mr. Luckett’s generous features. He had had 
plenty of experience of newspaper-men, and he 
knew to what lengths they will go to satisfy the 
demands of their editors, but this was undoubtedly 
the most daring newspaper-man he had ever en- 
countered. Mr. Luckett admired enterprise, 
even when it took the form of inconvenience to 
himself. Besides, he was naturally curious to 
hear the piece of information which his visitor 


250 


LORD LONDON 


appeared to think so important, and he was also 
anxious to hear the name of the newspaper which 
his visitor declared to be the most influential in 
the kingdom. 

“Well?” he grunted. 

“ May I close the door? ” 

“ Oh, if you like.” 

Hannibal closed the door, and then seated him- 
self comfortably on a chair by the side of the 
bath. 

“ Before we get to business, Mr. Luckett,” he 
began, “ I should like to give you one small piece 
of advice.” 

“ I don’t want your advice.” 

“ Yes, you do. I observe that you’re attempt- 
ing to accomplish the impossible. You’re trying to 
reach a certain spot between your shoulder-blades 
that no mortal man, however great he may be in 
other ways, can reach without assistance. I want 
to advise you to buy yourself a very simple little 
implement called a bath-brush.” 

“What’s that?” asked Mr. Luckett, at once 
interested. 

“ It’s simply a brush with a handle to it, spe- 
cially designed to save people from making the 
futile attempts which you’re now making. 
Haven’t you ever seen one ? ” 

“ Never.” 

“ Don’t they sell them at the Cape? ” 

“ How the devil should I know ? D’you think 


THE “ LITTLE DAILY ” 251 

I waste my time pottering about in stores looking 
for bath-brushes?” 

“ That’s the worst of not being married,” said 
Hannibal. “ If you were married, Mr. Luckett, 
your wife would have provided you with a bath- 
brush long ago.” 

“ I don’t want to hear your opinions on matri- 
mony, young man.” 

‘‘No, I know that, but you’ll never regret hav- 
ing heard about bath-brushes. May I have the 
great pleasure of sending you one? ” 

‘‘ No,” said Mr. Luckett. “ If I want one of 
these things, I can buy one for myself.” 

“ But you never would buy one for yourself. 
People with great minds never pay attention to 
small details — that is to say, the majority of them 
don’t. And yet it is the small details that no 
man can afford to overlook. Take myself, for 
example. You probably think me a small detail, 
and yet I’m one of the few men in London worth 
your time and attention.” 

Austin Luckett, at last desisting from the at- 
tempt to accomplish the impossible, looked more 
attentively than before at Hannibal. One of the 
open secrets of Luckett’s success, as it has also 
been one of the open secrets of Lord Lon- 
don’s success, was his ability to judge a man 
at sight. Whereas Lord London, however, is 
apt to make up his mind about a man rather too 
quickly, and does not, therefore, always give him- 


252 


LORD LONDON 


self a fair chance, Austin Luckett would put his 
first impressions to the test again and again, until 
he had proved them correct. He was not pre- 
pared to say offhand that Hannibal was an ex- 
ceptionally clever young man, or that he was a 
young man in whom he could implicitly believe, 
but he went so far as to admit to himself that his 
visitor was clever, and he felt inclined to believe 
him. 

“What about this information?” he asked. 

“ I’ll give it you. Since you were last in 
England, Mr. Luckett, a daily newspaper has been 
started which is prepared to take a very great 
interest — and to lend the support of its columns 
— in the British cause in South Africa. Did you 
know that? ” 

“ What paper is it? ” 

“ It’s called the ‘ Little Daily.’ Have you 
heard of it? ” 

“ Yes, I’ve heard of it. There was a young 
fool with the name of that paper on his card 
who got on board the boat at Madeira, and said 
that he had been sent on purpose to get an inter- 
view out of me. I packed him off with a flea in 
his ear! ” 

“ I know you did.” 

Mr. Luckett had now stepped out of his bath, 
and was vigorously toweling himself. 

“Oh, you do, do you? If he’s a friend of 
yours, you’d better advise him not to go about a 


THE “ LITTLE DAILY 


ticklish job in quite such a bald-headed way as 
that.” 

“ He’s not exactly a friend of mine,” Hannibal 
explained, gently. “ As a matter of fact, I sent 
him to Madeira.” 

“ Oh! So you’re the editor of this blessed pa- 
per, are you? ” 

“ I’m the editor and the founder, and the pro- 
prietor. I sent two men to interview you, Mr. 
Luckett, and you turned them both down. So, 
as you see, I’ve come myself.” 

“ What’s your name? ” 

“ Hannibal Qualn.” 

“ Well, Mr. Quain, you might just as well as 
saved yourself the trouble, because I don’t give 
interviews to newspapers. You ought to have 
known that.” 

“I do know it, and that’s exactly the reason 
why I want you to give one to me for my paper.” 

“ But why should I when I’ve refused all the 
others? ” 

“ Because, just as you’re no ordinary celebrity, 
so the ‘ Little Daily ’ is no ordinary newspaper. 
It has already a circulation of nearly half-a-mil- 
lion copies, and is going up rapidly every day. 
In addition to that, it is the one paper in London 
which is prepared to take a special Interest in 
South Africa. One of these days, Mr. Luckett, 
you may find yourself in a tight place; that sort 
of thing happens to all men who are out to do 


254 


LORD LONDON 


big things. When that day comes, you might be 
glad to have a daily newspaper in England pre- 
pared to support you, and to look at the Imperial 
question from your point of view. I should be 
willing to do that if you could give me this morn- 
ing some message for the readers of my paper 
which will show them, and will show England, 
that the task to which you have put your hand is 
a great one, and a noble one, and an unselfish 
one.” 

Mr. Luckett, without answering, finished dry- 
ing himself, and then pottered down the little 
passage and into his bedroom. Hannibal fol- 
lowed. He knew that he had made an im- 
pression on the great man, and he felt that he had 
a real chance of achieving a magnificent coup for 
his paper. He was naturally excited, but he took 
care not to show his excitement, for he was de- 
termined that the obligation should be on the side 
of Mr. Luckett, and not on his own side. 

“ The English people,” said Mr. Luckett, 
struggling into his shirt, “ know nothing about 
South Africa and care less. Here they have one 
of the most magnificent possessions that has ever 
come within the grasp of any country in the world 
— a possession so vast and so rich that even I, 
although I have devoted my life to the further- 
ance of the country, cannot yet appreciate or com- 
prehend the greatness of it.” 


THE “ LITTLE DAILY ” 255 

He dropped his stud, and Hannibal politely 
picked it up and handed it to him. 

“ Your people here at home,” went on Mr. 
Luckett, “ seem to think of South Africa as a place 
which exists to provide them with dancing Zulus 
for circuses. Not one in ten thousand of you 
takes the trouble to come out and see what we’re 
doing; not one in a thousand of you makes any 
attempt to grapple with all the intricate points of 
the racial question; not one in a hundred of you 
could even tell me offhand the number of English 
people living in Rhodesia. 

“ I come home to England every year, and 
every year I try to get the British Government to 
take some definite steps to settle the racial ques- 
tion. It’s got to be settled, and settled pretty 
soon. If they don’t settle it, then let them look 
out for squalls. My people are just about tired 
of the existing condition of things. If you came 
out there, and saw for yourself the daily bitterness 
and humiliations which British subjects have to 
endure, it would make your blood boil that peo- 
ple at home should remain indifferent and supine. 
After all, what are we working for? What am I 
working for? We’re all doing our level best to 
make the most of this tremendous territory, not 
for our own sakes, but for the sake of the Em- 
pire of the future. The world is not so large 
that you Britishers can afford to despise such a 


256 LORD LONDON 

possession as South Africa, and I’ll tell you 
this — ” 

He stopped abruptly, as though he had sud- 
denly remembered Hannibal’s presence. 

“ Please don’t stop,” said Hannibal. 

“ Are you taking notes, young man? ” 

“ Not a single note.” 

“ That’s right.” 

“ Because it wasn’t necessary.” 

“ What d’you mean?” 

“ I can remember everything you’ve said, Mr. 
Luckett.” 

“ I daresay you can, but you mustn’t print it.” 

“ I’m afraid I must print it,” said Hannibal. 

“ I tell you you’re not to print it,” roared Luck- 
ett. 

“ Why not? Don’t you want to wake the peo- 
ple of England up to their responsibilities in the 
matter of South Africa? Don’t you want to stir 
the Government up ? What’s the good of having 
a subject so deeply at heart, and talking so mag- 
niloquently about it, if I’m to be the only lis- 
tener? ” 

“ But I’m not at all sure what I’ve said,” com- 
plained Mr. Luckett, suddenly becoming plain- 
tive. 

“ You’ve said nothing that you need be fright- 
ened about. I shall write it up myself, and it will 
be so carefully done that you couldn’t possibly im- 
prove upon it.” 


THE “ LITTLE DAILY ” 257 

" Least said, soonest mended,” grumbled Mr. 
Luckett. 

“ Does that mean that I’m not to use the inter- 
view after all? ” 

“ Yes, it does.” 

“ Now, look here, Mr. Luckett. You went to 
South Africa as a young man, and you had to make 
your own way there. You made it, but if you tell 
me that you’re entirely independent of help from 
anybody, I shall take the liberty of disbelieving 
you. I went into journalism as a young man and 
had to make my own way; I’ve made it, but I’m 
big enough to admit that I can’t get along without 
help. We both want help; I want your help, and 
you want mine. I want to print this interesting 
interview in my paper, and you want to have a 
London daily morning paper with an enormous 
circulation always ready to stand by you. Very 
well. Can’t we strike a bargain which should be 
of the greatest benefit to us both? ” 

Mr. Luckett, by this time, was fully dressed for 
riding. He put on a hard felt hat, took up his 
gloves and his riding-whip, and then walked slowly 
toward the door. Just as he was going out, he 
turned, looking very thoughtful, and said to Han- 
nibal : 

“ What did you say those things were called? ” 

“ Bath-brushes,” said Hannibal, promptly. 

“ Can I get one at any store? ” 

“ Oh, yes, any large shop will do.” 


258 


LORD LONDON 


“ Good,” said Mr. Luckett. “ I’ll get one.” 
And he went out into the passage. 

“ And the interview? ” asked Hannibal, follow- 
ing him. 

” One good turn deserves another,” replied 
Mr. Luckett, smiling for the first time since Han- 
nibal had been with him. And with that he 
stepped into the lift. 

If you care to examine the earliest files of the 
“ Little Daily,” you will find the interview with 
Austin Luckett that Hannibal wrote when he re- 
turned to the office. It runs to just two columns, 
and, not only did it have a most valuable effect on 
the public, but also proved to Fleet Street in gen- 
eral, and to Hannibal’s own staff in particular, the 
truth of his favorite adage, that a journalist can 
accomplish anything on this planet if he is the 
right man in the right place. 


XIV 


THE BOY IN HANNIBAL 

O NE of the most refreshing things about 
Hannibal Quain, and, indeed, about Lord 
London, is the fact that he combines with 
a genius for journalism, and a genius for the 
business side of journalism, a boyish delight in 
his own wealth, success, and power. We all used 
to ask each other, as children, what we would do 
if we had a thousand pounds. We Indulged in 
the most delicious dreams of houses built entirely 
of ginger-bread, and ponies with silver-mounted 
harness, and journeyings in little ships of our own 
to the coral-islands and palm-groves of Kingston 
and Ballantyne. When we grew up, however, 
and found ourselves actually In possession of that 
thousand pounds, did we realize any of these 
dreams? Not one. We were too busy over the 
business of collecting the second thousand pounds 
to enjoy the first, and so it goes on, and always 
will go on, except in the case of those who are 
lucky enough to remain boys and girls all their 
lives. 

When Hannibal, fretful because the “ Little 
Daily ” was not lying upon every breakfast table 

259 


26 o 


LORD LONDON 


in the north of England and Scotland on the morn- 
ing of its publication, suddenly conceived the idea 
of publishing the paper in duplicate from his own 
duplicate offices in the north of England, he 
showed his genius for the business side of jour- 
nalism. And when, being faced with a possible 
shortage in the supply of paper because of a pos- 
sible shortage in the supply of wood-pulp from 
which paper is made, he suddenly decided to buy 
two thousand square miles of forests in New- 
foundland, and so render himself independent of 
the paper-making trade, he again showed his ge- 
nius for the business side of journalism. 

Fleet Street, knowing, perhaps, more of Han- 
nibal the journalist than Hannibal the business 
man, was amazed by these undeniably brilliant 
strokes of business. Hannibal enjoyed their 
amazement with the boyish side of him, which 
was always bubbling up even in the very midst of 
the inevitable cares and worries of being at the 
head of a vast organization. It was the boy in 
him which gave him that intense delight in motor- 
cars, just as he had once found an intense delight 
in the bicycle, and just as his imagination is kin- 
dled to-day by flying-machines. It was the boy 
in him, again, that led him to devise and carry out 
a triumphal tour through Ireland in which his 
mother was the chief figure. It delighted him to 
unroll for her, by merely waving his check-book, 
this fascinating land of iron and velvet. He ap- 


THE BOY IN HANNIBAL 261 


pointed himself her courier-in-chief, and found an 
exquisite pleasure in surrounding her with all 
the luxury of modern travel that money can buy. 
From Dublin to the wilds of Connemara, you will 
still hear stories of that princely trip — of the 
special trains, of the suites of apartments reserved 
by telegram for days in advance, of the special 
steamers on the lakes and rivers. 

But, quite apart from the huge fortune that had 
come to him as the result of his enterprises, he 
had a boyish delight in the power that the ever- 
growing success of the “ Little Daily ” had given 
him. At the age of thirty-two, or thereabouts, 
he found himself in possession of a weapon with 
which he could, if he liked, hold at bay and even 
intimidate countless people of all ranks and in all 
positions. There were many, no doubt, who still 
laughed or sneered at him, but as he had prophe- 
sied, they did it in a corner and with their backs 
turned. When he looked out upon the crowded 
world, he saw nothing but a sea of smiling faces 
and a forest of applauding hands. He was cer- 
tainly very freakish at times with this adulating 
inner public. He would try them very severely. 
He was no respecter of personalities. He al- 
lowed his writers to speak their opinions in his 
columns without let or hindrance, even though 
they might happen to tread on the corns, as they 
often did, of his friends and acquaintances. If 
the friends and acquaintances remonstrated, as 


262 


LORD LONDON 


was only natural, Hannibal would reply, for ex- 
ample, much in this way: 

“ You complain that you have been attacked 
in my paper. You say that you have produced a 
play at considerable expense, and that my critic 
has given it an unfavorable notice. You practi- 
cally accuse him of malice, and you tell me these 
things in the hope that I shall dismiss him. That 
is your point of view, and it is quite comprehensi- 
ble. 

“ Now let us look at the matter from two other 
points of view. The first is that of the public. 
The public buy my paper because they want to be 
told whether your play is worth their time and 
their money. If, to please you, I print a false ac- 
count of the merits of your play in my paper, I 
am disloyal to my public, and I am helping to im- 
pair the fabric which I have built up with so much 
care and labor, because the public will soon find 
out that I have printed a false account, and they 
will cease to believe in my paper. You reply 
that the account we have printed is a false account 
because your play is a very fine one, and you your- 
self gave a very fine performance in the leading 
part. If that is correct, and the public, the dis- 
criminating and non-discriminating public, are all 
agreed that my critic has done you any injustice, 
he will be reprimanded, and, if he continues to 
misrepresent your productions or the productions 
of other managers, he will be dismissed. 


THE BOY IN HANNIBAL 263 


“ Now let us look at the matter from a third 
point of view, namely, that of my critic himself. 
He may, or he may not, know that you are a per- 
sonal friend of mine. I have not told him so be- 
cause that might influence his judgment, and as 
I have said, I attach more importance to satisfy- 
ing the readers of my paper than to satisfying my 
individual friends. But he certainly does know 
that it is safer, on the whole, to praise a produc- 
tion than to slate one. When he praises — and 
I may remind you that he has praised very highly 
many productions of your own — he knows that 
he is making a friend of you, and a friend of the 
author, and a friend of the players, and of every- 
body connected with the production. Obviously, 
it is to his own interest, especially if he cherishes 
any hopes of becoming a dramatist himself, to 
praise as often as he can, more particularly the 
plays produced by important and established man- 
agements. But you and I know very well that the 
proportion of good plays produced is about one 
in ten, and I should therefore be very suspicious 
of my critic if I found him praising, let us say, 
nine plays out of ten. Mind you, I have not told 
him that either; he has taken his own line from the 
beginning, and one of the things that recom- 
mended him to me when I made the appointment 
was the knowledge that he had a constitutional 
habit of plain speaking. 

“ One of the most difficult posts in Fleet Street 


264 


LORD LONDON 


to fill is the post of dramatic critic on a paper with 
influence. If you find a man who is clever, he is 
often too clever to be disinterested. If you find 
a man with a large experience in theatrical mat- 
ters, he is, so to speak, waterlogged by the num- 
ber of his friends — or enemies — in the theatri- 
cal profession. If you find an honest fool, he is 
no good to anybody because he can be humbugged 
into thinking that a bad play is a good one. I 
don’t mind telling you — and you can probably 
guess it for yourself without my telling you — 
that my dramatic critic is the most abused man on 
my staff; that’s why I value him.” 

Here Hannibal once again showed his boyish- 
ness — the boyish passion for fair play. 

It was the boy in Hannibal that made him ac- 
cept the offer, which amounted to a challenge, of 
the proprietor of a famous daily paper in New 
York to edit the paper for one night. A grown- 
up person in Hannibal’s position would have cer- 
tainly declined the offer, realizing the impossibil- 
ity of impressing one’s personality on a strange 
staff in a single night. Hannibal jumped at the 
chance with a boyish glee, and managed to hit 
upon a very simple and effective method of show- 
ing the American public that there had been a new 
hand at the helm. He might have printed the 
paper entirely in red, but there would have been 
no sense in that; it would not have conveyed any 
of his own ideas of the ideal daily paper to the 


THE BOY IN HANNIBAL 265 


American public. What he did do was simply 
to double the paper in half. The public were 
startled, the paper received a magnificent adver- 
tisement, and Hannibal issued, for one night only, 
a journal similar in size to his own beloved “ Lit- 
tle Daily.” 

He has always been able to do very kind things 
in a very gracious way, and surely it is the boy 
in him that prompts such acts. Hard-headed men 
of business often feel the promptings of generos- 
ity ; that is the boy in them struggling to be heard. 
But then the man of experience steps In, and tells 
the boy that It is only fools who are kind and gen- 
erous; that a rich man is always a prey for the 
humbugs and charlatans of the world; that, if you 
give to one, you must give to all, and It would 
require a colossal fortune indeed to enable one 
to give to all. 

Hannibal knew all these things well enough, 
just as Lord London knows them well enough, 
but he listened to the voice of the experienced 
man far less often than many another with his 
wealth and influence. There Is a pretty story, 
which happens to be true, of the wife of a young 
novelist calling upon Hannibal. Hannibal, rec- 
ognizing the name, and being In a boyish mood, 
told his people to admit the visitor. She, poor 
lady, must have been Immensely frightened by the 
size of his private office, and the magnificence of 
the fittings, and the masses of choice flowers in 


266 


LORD LONDON 


great vases in all parts of the room, nor must it 
be forgotten that her nerves had already been 
shaken by the long wait in the outer office, with 
the ringing of the telephone, the short, sharp re- 
ply, the constant coming and going of those who 
had business with the Great Man. How insig- 
nificant her own business seemed! Why, as a 
matter of fact, she had no business with him at 
all! How would he receive her? In all proba- 
bility, he would be extremely annoyed with her 
for her presumption, would conclude the brief in- 
terview with a single word, and she would go 
home with the knowledge that she had done her- 
self and her husband more harm than good. 

None of these fears were realized. She found 
the most charming welcome waiting for her, and 
she found in Hannibal a man to whom she was 
presently chatting as easily and comfortably as 
with one of her husband’s friends. Was it pos- 
sible that this was the great Hannibal Quain? 
Was it possible that this was the proprietor of 
forty weekly papers, to say nothing of two daily 
papers and a monthly magazine? Why, this 
man, if he liked, could take up her husband and 
place him in the front rank of the novelists of the 
day. He could give him sufficient work to ren- 
der them free from care for the rest of their lives. 
How easy became the problems of life when once 
you were in touch with those at the very top of the 
tree ! 


THE BOY IN HANNIBAL 267 


“ Good morning, Mrs. Kesteven,” said Han- 
nibal, shaking her by the hand. “ I’m so sorry to 
have kept you waiting. What can I do for you ? ” 

He had come to the point with startling sud- 
denness, but the thought of her husband, sitting 
at his small table in the bedroom of their lodg- 
ings, trying to write a story that should satisfy 
the requirements of an editor in its combination 
of strength and lightness, steadied her. 

“ Take your time,” said Hannibal, noticing her 
nervousness. 

“ Oh, thank you. I won’t keep you a moment, 
because I know how busy you must be. I really 
wanted to speak to you about my husband.” 

“ Certainly. Your husband is very clever.” 

It was not very much to say; it was not a diffi- 
cult thing to say; it was entirely non-committal. 
Yet, to Mrs. Kesteven, those five words made as 
much difference as the sun makes to the world 
when it suddenly breaks through the clouds on a 
gray and mournful day. Mrs. Kesteven often 
wonders whether Hannibal knew that, in an in- 
stant, he thus won her heart; and she also won- 
ders why great and powerful men so rarely 
say nice things of that sort to the poor and strug- 
gling people to whom they mean so much. Per- 
haps it is because a great and powerful man cannot 
understand that a word of encouragement from 
him is, in itself, a tremendous and highly-prized 
gift. 


268 


LORD LONDON 


“Do you really think so?” Mrs. Kesteven 
gazed eagerly at the boyish face in front of her, 
surmounted by the now famous slant-wise fringe 
of fair hair. 

Hannibal smiled. 

“Why,” he said, “ don’t you?” 

“ Oh, yes, of course I think him clever, but 
then I’m only his wife.” 

“ It’s a very responsible thing, Mrs. Kesteven, 
to be the wife of a man with great gifts such as 
your husband possesses. It is not only your duty 
to keep him in health, so that he may do his best 
work, but you also have the opportunity of help- 
ing to form his ideas and opinions. You are his 
first, and his nearest, and his most influential critic. 
His success is as creditable to you as to him.” 

“Yes, I quite realize my responsibility, but I 
wish he could be more successful. You have no 
idea how hard he works! People who read his 
stories and his books think that he can just turn 
them off without any effort, but if they saw him, 
as I do, with his face quite white and his eyes all 
gone dull just from the effort of trying to think 
out a really good idea for a story, I’m sure they 
would pay more attention to his work. The work 
that seems so light and fragile is just as difficult 
to do as the heavier and more pretentious work, 
but people seem to give all the credit to the men 
and women who turn out great chunks of highly- 
colored descriptions of scenery and great slabs of 


THE BOY IN HANNIBAL 269 

hysterical emotion. It isn’t fair! What they 
ought to consider is art ! The people who do the 
most artistic work ought to have the greatest 
credit — not the people who do the most showy ! ” 

Hannibal nodded. “ Do you write yourself, 
Mrs. Kesteven?” he asked. 

“ Oh, yes, I write a little. That is to say, I 
write a great deal, but it’s quite unimportant work 
— only rubbish, you know.” 

“ What do you write? ” 

“ Oh, I write for some weekly papers.” 

She suddenly blushed crimson, seeing that she 
had put her foot into it. But Hannibal, still 
freakish, would not let her off. 

“ What papers do you write for? ” he persisted. 

“ Oh,” stammered poor little Mrs. Kesteven, 
“just one or two little weekly papers — papers 
for girls and that sort of thing.” 

“ Any of my papers, Mrs. Kesteven? ” 

“ Well, yes, I do write for one or two of your 
papers.” 

“Just rubbish?” said Hannibal, smiling. 

“ I’m so sorry ! Do forgive me ! I ought not 
to have said that. I meant that the work I do 
is rubbish compared with the work that my hus- 
band does. I really asked you to see me because 
I wanted to talk about him — not about myself at 
all.” 

“Yes, I know, but I want to talk about you 
first. I know your work quite well, Mrs. Kest- 


270 LORD LONDON 

even. And I like it. Why don’t you do more 
for us? ” 

“ I should like to do as much as ever I can,” 
replied Mrs. Kesteven, candidly, “ but I’m always 
afraid to send in too much because I don’t want 
your editors to get tired of me.” 

“ They won’t get tired of you as long as you 
keep up to your own level. Do you find that it 
worries you while you are writing that you have 
to please my editors ? ” 

“ Well, I suppose one would feel happier if 
one knew for certain that the story was going to 
be accepted.” 

“ That’s just what I mean. I’m certain that 
the way to get the best work out of people is to 
make them feel confident. You have done quite 
enough work for my papers, Mrs. Kesteven, for 
me to be sure that you will always reach a certain 
standard, but there is something lacking in your 
stories — I think it is probably the vitality that 
comes from happiness in one’s work. Now, let 
us see whether we can’t get that vitality into your 
next lot of stories. I will definitely commission 
you to write me twelve stories at the usual rates 
paid by the editors of those papers for which you 
work. Will you accept the commission?” 

Accept it? Tears started to the eyes of little 
Mrs. Kesteven. Twelve stories, at five pounds 
apiece, would mean sixty pounds! Sixty pounds 
for certain would mean summer clothes for her 


THE BOY IN HANNIBAL 271 

little girl, summer clothes for herself, arrears of 
bills that had been owing far too long, and a holi- 
day at the seaside for her husband, herself, and 
their little girl! All these things this man could 
give her by merely putting his finger on a button, 
and he was going to do it 1 Accept? 

Mrs. Kesteven nodded, being at the moment 
quite unable to speak. She knew that it was not 
the correct thing to reply with a nod when an in- 
fluential proprietor of papers offered one a com- 
mission for twelve stories all in a bunch, but she 
felt, somehow, that he would understand. 

Hannibal did understand. He understood so 
well that, having put his finger on the magic but- 
ton, he walked across to the window while he was 
waiting for his secretary to enter. 

“ I want you to draw a brief contract for twelve 
short stories by Mrs. Kesteven to be completed 
within, say, six months. Mrs. Kesteven will sign 
it before she leaves, and you will kindly hand 
her a duplicate of the contract signed by my- 
self.” 

“ Oh,” protested the little lady, “ please don’t 
bother about a contract! ” 

“ Business is business,” said Hannibal, gravely. 
“ I want to make sure that you don’t do me out 
of my twelve stories, Mrs. Kesteven.” He turned 
again to his secretary. “ And please draw a 
check for sixty pounds in favor of Mrs. Kesteven, 
and bring it to me at once to sign.” 


272 


LORD LONDON 


The secretary withdrew to carry out these in- 
structions, and Hannibal turned to his chair. 

“ So much for that little stroke of business,” he 
said. “ Now, what can I do for your husband? ” 

Mrs. Kesteven hesitated. She had really writ- 
ten to Hannibal for this appointment in a moment 
of great anger. The editor of one of Hannibal’s 
papers had definitely commissioned a story of her 
husband by word of mouth. Her husband had 
written the story and sent it in, and the editor 
had then gone back on his word, and denied hav- 
ing given the commission. This was what had 
brought Mrs. Kesteven to Hannibal’s office, but, 
now that he had been so generous, what could she 
say? Quite apart from the fact that it would 
seem ungracious to complain in the face of what 
had happened, she really had no desire to get the 
young editor into trouble. 

“I — I think I would rather change my mind 
about that, if you don’t mind.” 

“ But I do mind. You said in your letter that 
you wished to see me on important business con- 
nected with your husband. Has the important 
business settled itself?” 

“ Well, yes, I think it has.” 

“ Then why are you here? ” 

“ Well, you see, it has settled itself since I 
came.” 

Hannibal did not press her further. He 
judged, from her manner, that Mrs. Kesteven’s 


THE BOY IN HANNIBAL 273 


business had been to raise money, and that busi- 
ness, of course, was so settled with the signing of 
the check for sixty pounds. So the great griev- 
ance was never told, and the young editor got off 
scot-free. It should be added, by way of round- 
ing off happily a very pretty story, that Kesteven 
is now quite independent of this particular editor, 
and that his agent, who can sell as many stories as 
Kesteven writes, before they are written, does not 
accept verbal commissions. 


XV 


HOW SHEILA BECAME HER LADYSHIP 

DON’T think I shall go down,” said Mr. 
I Gillfoyle. 

J- “Why not?” asked Mrs. Gillfoyle, 
placidly. 

They were sitting at the window of their room 
on the first floor of Herrick Court, Hannibal’s 
beautiful country home, about twenty-four miles 
from London. 

Hannibal and Sheila were very modest in the 
matter of homes. They had, of course, a house 
in the West End, but, apart from that, and Her- 
rick Court, they had only a comparatively small 
house by the sea. Herrick Court was their chief 
and favorite place of residence. It was a stately 
Elizabethan house of gray stone, forming with 
its gigantic wings three sides of a square. It 
stood on fairly high ground, in the midst of some 
two thousand acres of meadow-land. There were 
several farms on the estate, but one saw nothing 
of them from the house or the terraces or the 
lawns. One saw nothing, in point of fact, but 
lawns and flowers in the foreground, and deep 
woods in the background, and, at night, one heard 
274 


HER LADYSHIP 


275 


nothing but the voices of Nature. If you strolled 
outside about ten o’clock in the evening, and 
looked at the old gray mansion, with its lighted 
windows, and listened to the gentle whispering of 
the distant trees and the sough of the wind across 
the dark meadows, while the scent of many blos- 
soms came stealing to you through the night air, 
you might well have wondered whether Heaven 
itself could be more entrancingly beautiful than 
Herrick Court. 

In the daytime, of course, it was busy enough. 
Hannibal saw to that. He loved busy scenes, 
and he made busy scenes wherever he went. 
There were huge touring cars rolling up to the 
main entrance, and other cars in the garage at 
the back being swished down and tuned up by 
Hannibal’s retinue of French chauffeurs. The 
telephone to the offices of the “ Little Daily ” and 
his other publications would be going, and sleek 
footmen would be gliding about over the soft car- 
pets, and one or two young secretaries would be 
hastening to and fro on Hannibal’s business. 
And, of course, there would be the usual house- 
party, for Hannibal disliked loneliness. In ad- 
dition to the young secretaries, and the major- 
domo, and Sheila, and Sheila’s secretary, there 
would be a lord or two, and a baronet or two, 
and a millionaire or two, and a famous author or 
two, and a couple of singers, and a pianist, and a 
famous violinist, and an artist. 


276 


LORD LONDON 


All these people would be kept at it by Hanni- 
bal from morning till night. The higher their 
station in life, the less energetic they were allowed 
to be, but still they were certainly kept at it. 
The members of the House of Lords would prob- 
ably go for a ride in one of the big touring cars; 
the baronets would be sent to fish; the millionaires 
would be told to play bowls for the good of their 
figures; the famous authors, accompanied by the 
singers, would be sent along to the private golf- 
links ; the pianist would practice his piano-playing 
on the grand piano specially provided for him in 
his own suite of apartments; the violinist would 
practise the violin in her suite of apartments; and 
the artist, if a landscape artist, would be painting 
a view in the grounds, or, if a portrait-painter, 
would be patiently awaiting a brief and restless 
sitting from Hannibal. 

This afternoon, Herrick Court was busier than 
ever, for Sheila was holding one of her celebrated 
garden parties. The motor vehicles in which the 
guests had arrived, some from London, some from 
the neighborhood, and some from the south coast, 
reached down one of the side-drives for nearly a 
mile. The people who had come in these cars 
were assembled on the huge lawn on the south 
side of the mansion. They included every kind 
of person, from a bishop to a boxer, from a 
duchess to a dancer. They were of all ages, all 
sizes, and all shapes. Some were very rich. 


HER LADYSHIP 


277 


some were moderately rich, some were only 
well-off, and some, although you would never 
have suspected it, were desperately poor. Some 
were in splendid health, some in indifferent 
health, and some in delicate health. But, who- 
ever they were, and whatever they looked like, 
and however they felt, they all had one common 
characteristic — they were all tremendously gay. 
Many of them were laughing quite heartily the 
whole afternoon, others smiled the whole after- 
noon, and the rest either grinned or smirked, ac- 
cording to sex. But whether they laughed, 
smiled, grinned, or smirked, they were all as cheer- 
ful as cheerful could he, for gaiety and good 
clothes will carry you a very long way in society, 
which has no use at all for dumps and dowdi- 
ness. 

As Mr. and Mrs. Gillfoyle looked down from 
their window, they could see their daughter, ex- 
quisitely gowned, tall, beautiful, gracious, self- 
possessed, stately, even queenly, moving to and 
fro among her hundreds of guests as though she 
had been born in a palace instead of a country 
rectory. Whenever she stopped for a moment, 
a small crowd collected round the spot where she 
was standing as though she were a kind of magnet 
among a forest of needles. Then there would be 
a sudden parting of the needles, and the magnet 
would slowly emerge from the center of the group 
and move away, while the needles immediately 


LORD LONDON 


278 

turned in every direction in search of other needles 
to keep them company. 

Much the same thing was happening to Han- 
nibal, save that there was no time for the crowd 
to collect round him. He was not so much like 
a magnet as a piece of quicksilver. If you have 
ever seen people chasing a piece of quicksilver 
about the floor of a room, you will be able to 
imagine Hannibal among his guests. They all 
seemed anxious, in their well-bred way, to catch 
him and pick him up, but he was not going to be 
picked up, and their efforts were doomed to fail- 
ure beforehand. Oddly enough, some of the old- 
est and slowest were the most successful in get- 
ting near to him, and one little man, with very 
bushy eyebrows and a small clean-shaven face, 
was close to him for so long that he seemed about 
to effect a capture. Indeed, he actually got so far 
as to slip his hand through Hannibal’s arm, but, 
at that instant, Hannibal sighted somebody to 
whom he had to speak at the far end of the lawn, 
and was twenty yards away before the little man 
could follow up his successful grab. 

“ Because,” said Mr. Gillfoyle, “ I should 
be rather frightened in the midst of all that 
crowd.” 

“ It doesn’t seem to me such a very enormous 
crowd,” replied Mrs. Gillfoyle, placidly. “ We’ve 
been in just as big a crowd as that at the Bishop’s 
garden-party.” 


HER LADYSHIP 


279 


“Yes, but those were only country clergy and 
their wives and daughters. One knew a great 
many of them, and one didn’t feel disconcerted. 
I don’t see any country clergy here — nothing less 
than an archdeacon at the very least.” 

“ Well, darling, you know you can be an arch- 
deacon whenever you like. Hannibal could easily 
arrange it. In fact, I daresay he might manage a 
bishopric for you if you liked.” 

“ I shouldn’t like. I should look ridiculous in 
gaiters, and I’m afraid my sermons wouldn’t 
sound half so well in a cathedral as they do in our 
little church at Clinton Bagot.” 

“ Oh, it’s all a matter of a sounding-board,” 
explained Mrs. Gillfoyle. “ I’ve noticed that 
when we’ve been to services in cathedrals. All 
you have to do is to speak very slowly, and let 
your voice hit the sounding-board, and then roll 
out into the cathedral. It doesn’t matter much 
what you say because the building makes it sound 
so nice and impressive. I sometimes amuse my- 
self by taking away the sounding-board, and quick- 
ening up the sermons, and putting the preacher 
into your pulpit. It’s astonishing how unimpress- 
ive he becomes.” 

“ You mustn’t talk like that, my dear.” 

“Why not?” 

“ Well, I’m not at all sure that it’s reverent.” 

“ Oh,_ nonsense. A sounding-board is only a 
sounding-board, and the man beneath the sound- 


28 o 


LORD LONDON 


ing-board Is only a man. Just look at our little 
Sheila down there. What is the difference be- 
tween her and one of the girls in the country 
vicarages round Clinton Bagot? Of course, she’s 
cleverer than most of them, and her appearance 
is very much in her favor, but it’s the sounding- 
board that helps her to look like that, and talk 
like that, and move like that. It’s this beautiful 
mansion at the back of her, and that beautiful 
dress, and, more than all, the knowledge of Han- 
nibal’s power and his wealth. I shall most cer- 
tainly go down, and, if you watch, you’ll see how 
gracefully I shall sweep across the lawn. You’ll 
see how easily I shall chat with the Bishop of Ken- 
ilworth. I’ve always wanted to have a good talk 
with him on even ground, and this is my chance. 
If you’re not an archdeacon by this time next 
week, it won’t be my fault or the Bishop’s.” 

“ You’ll take care not to be too free with him, 
won’t you, my dear ? ” 

“ On the contrary. I’m going to be very free 
with him. I’m going to make him laugh, and I’m 
going to make him get me some tea, and then I’m 
going to put him through his paces. We got on 
very well when he came over to us for the last 
confirmation, but he was much too bishopy and 
patronizing. There won’t be any of that this 
afternoon. 

“ Now, dear, you look very nice in your new 
coat, and your new boots, and your new collar. 


HER LADYSHIP 


281 


Let me just brush you down a little, and then you 
must take me out on to the lawn. I’m quite sure 
that neither Sheila nor Hannibal would be pleased 
if we lurked in our room all the time. Besides, 
I’m sure all these people will be interested to meet 
Sheila’s father and mother. Where is the clothes- 
brush? Ah, here it is. Stand up. Don’t wrig- 
gle about. There ! Now we’ll go down.” 

Poor Mr. Gillfoyle was bound to obey. He 
gave his wife a rather shaky arm to lean upon, 
and then, despite the fact that he was trembling 
a little at the knees, they walked slowly and mag- 
nificently down the great staircase, through the 
great hall, and out on to the south lawn. 

Hannibal caught sight of them at once, and 
came across to them. 

“ Splendid ! ” he said. “ Now, tell me, is there 
anybody you particularly want to meet, Mrs. Gill- 
foyle ? ” 

“ Is the Queen here? ” asked Mrs. Gillfoyle in 
her gentle voice. 

“ No,” said Hannihal, “ not this afternoon.” 

“ Or the King? ” 

“ No, I’m sorry I couldn’t get him for you, 
either.” 

“ They tell me the Prime Minister is a very cul- 
tivated man.” 

“ Yes, so he is, but he hasn’t turned up. I’m 
afraid you’ll think it rather a rotten party, Mrs. 
Gillfoyle.” 


282 


LORD LONDON 


“ Oh, not at all. We’ve been watching the 
people from our window, and they all look very 
nice and friendly. Did I see my old friend the 
Bishop of Kenilworth somewhere about? ” 

“ Yes, I believe he’s here. Shall I find him for 
you? ” 

“ No, don’t run away. We shall be sure to 
meet him before very long. I’m going to ask him 
to make Papa an archdeacon. Don’t you think 
it’s a good idea? ” 

“ An excellent idea ! And, if he gives you any 
trouble, just let me know. I’ll soon bring him 
up to the scratch! ” 

“ Oh, I don’t want you to frighten him. I 
daresay it’s only an oversight on his part. How 
nice Sheila looks ! ” 

“ Yes. Aren’t you proud of her? ” 

“Are you?” 

“ Very. You know that.” 

“ Then so am I. Ah, there’s the Bishop.” 

Hannibal, having seen Mrs. Gillfoyle walk off 
in the direction of the tea-tables with the Bishop 
of Kenilworth, introduced Mr. Gillfoyle to the 
member of Parliament for the division which in- 
cluded Clinton Bagot, and left the old gentleman 
hard at it on the subject of Disestablishment and 
Disendowment. He then went in search of his 
own mother, and found her In earnest conversa- 
tion with the little man with the very bushy eye- 
brows, whose name was Pook. 


HER LADYSHIP 


283 


Pook, as Hannibal approached, sprang up. 

“ Please don’t move,” said Hannibal. 

“ Oh, I’d much rather not move, believe me, 
but there are still a whole heap of people with 
whom I must have a word. Mrs. Quain and I 
have had a most interesting chat, Mr. Quain, very 
interesting indeed. In point of fact, we’ve been 
talking about you; haven’t we, Mrs. Quain? 
Now I must be off about my business. See you 
later. Mrs. Quain has been good enough to sug- 
gest that I should stay the night in your lovely 
house, and, if you’ll permit me. I’ll telephone my 
man to bring down my things.” 

“ Don’t bother to do that,” said Hannibal. 
“ I’ll tell Herbert to telephone.” 

“Will you? How very kind of you! That 
will be splendid! And, before I go, you and I 
must have a nice long talk; mustn’t we, Mrs. 
Quain? ” 

Mrs. Quain the elder smiled graciously at the 
little man, who, after bowing repeatedly, and rub- 
bing his hands a great deal, and, in short, doing 
everything he possibly could to show how friendly 
and cosy they all were together, at last fussed 
himself away and was swallowed up in the crowd. 

Who was Mr. Pook? If you had put the ques- 
tion to him, he would have replied, with much 
smiling and hand-washing, that he was nobody — 
a mere private member of Parliament, and that 
was all. Everybody knew, of course, that Mr. 


284 


LORD LONDON 


Pook was a private member of Parliament, and 
yet nobody treated him as a nobody. Mr. Pook 
never made a speech in the House, never served 
on any tiresome committees, and never contested 
a doubtful seat. When his own seat was once 
captured by a very popular Radical, Mr. Pook 
was quickly popped in as the representative of a 
constituency of which there had never been the 
slightest doubt. 

Why? What was Mr. Pook’s especial avo- 
cation in life? One met him everywhere, and, 
wherever one met him, one knew that he was not 
present in a merely social capacity. Things had a 
way of happening to people after one of Mr. 
Pook’s visits; he left a trail behind him — a trail 
of joy or a trail of despair, as the case might be. 
Small wonder that the world was extremely civil 
to Mr. Pook. No sooner had he left Hannibal, 
for example, than a dozen people rushed forward 
who were anxious for a word with him. Mr. 
Pook was almost as much in demand, and almost 
as difficult to catch, as the host of the afternoon 
himself. . . . 

So Mr. Pook stayed the night, and evinced un- 
common anxiety to monopolize Hannibal. Had 
Hannibal wished for a prolonged and private chat 
with Mr. Pook, he would have found little diffi- 
culty in achieving his object. Whichever way he 
turned, there was Mr. Pook, with his little face 
all alight, and his eyes shining, and a look in them 


HER LADYSHIP 


285 


which said quite plainly, “ Now, Mr. Quain, here 
is your chance ! Let us retire to your den for an 
hour, or take a stroll in the garden I I fancy that 
we understand one another pretty well, and it only 
needs a brief conversation to put everything in 
train.” 

Mr. Pook did not solicit this quiet chat in so 
many words, but nothing could have been more 
appealing or more eloquent than his dumb show. 
Hannibal, for his part, seemed to take a delight 
in foiling the little man. He made him listen to 
the professional pianist, and then he made him 
listen to the violinist, and then he made him play 
auction-bridge with two millionaires and a peer 
of the realm, and then, when poor little Mr. Pook 
was nearly dropping with fatigue, Hannibal found 
him a partner for a game of billiards. When the 
game of billiards was over, and Mr. Pook, very 
sleepy now, but still alert and determined, looked 
round for his host, he learned to his amazement 
that Hannibal had gone to bed. Mr. Pook was 
not accustomed to such treatment as this. He 
was in the habit of being sought out, and made 
much of, even fawned upon. He liked to be 
fawned upon, not because he was vain, but for the 
sake of the great Interests that he represented. 

With a puzzled expression on his countenance 
and a sorrowful shake of his little head, Mr. 
Pook, too, went to bed. . . . 

He was up very early the next morning, and 


286 LORD LONDON 

was rewarded by finding Hannibal in the rose- 
garden. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Quain,” said Mr. Pook. 

“ j ’) 

“ Good morning,” replied Hannibal. “ I hope 
you enjoyed your game of billiards last night? ” 
“Very much! Very much indeed, thank you. 
But I should have enjoyed it more — ” 

“Are you fond of roses, Mr. Pook?” 

“ Very ! I may say that I am passionately fond 
of roses! And what beautiful roses these are! 
By the way, I — ” 

“ Then let me find you one for your button- 
hole. Here we are ! ” 

“ Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Quain! It will 
be nice to take back to Westminster with me so 
fragrant a memento of my delightful visit to Her- 
rick Court.” 

“You’re returning to-day?” 

“ This very morning, Mr. Quain. And that 
is why — ” 

“What a pity! Can’t I persuade you to stay 
until after lunch? I have a particular reason for 
wishing it.” 

“ Indeed! In that case — ” 

“ Yes. I want you to have a round with me 
on my links.” 

“ Oh, I see.” Shadows of doubt chased one 
another very quickly across Mr. Book’s animated 
little face. 


HER LADYSHIP 287 

“You won’t refuse? ” Hannibal looked point- 
blank at his guest. 

“ No, no! ” said Mr. Pook, hastily. “ I shall 
be most charmed! ” 

“ Then that’s settled. Shall we say eleven 
o’clock? ” 

“ Eleven o’clock, by all means. I fear you’ll 
find me but an indifferent player, Mr. Quain. 
However, I’ll do my best to give you a good 
game.” 

“ I feel sure that you’ll be successful,” said 
Hannibal, and they went in to breakfast. 

The links at Herrick Court had just been laid 
out, and Hannibal had taken up the game of Ex- 
asperation and Fascination with his usual enthu- 
siasm. It is hardly necessary to say that he was 
a most baffling player. If he made a hopeless 
foozle of his drive, he would extricate himself 
from the difficulty with a brilliant mashie-shot, 
follow up by landing himself on the green with 
his iron, and hole out, from a distance of twelve 
or fourteen feet, in one. At the next hole, he 
would drive superlatively, and then, having 
plunged his opponent into the depths of despair, 
get badly bunkered and give up the hole. 

The links were not large — only nine holes, 
but they were the prettiest links in the neighbor- 
hood. Hannibal had had one of the champions 
down to plan out the links and show him the rudi- 
ments of the game. The champion, having spent 


288 


LORD LONDON 


the morning in the park, had mapped out what he 
considered to be an ideal course; Hannibal had 
then brought his own ideas to bear on the subject 
of bunkers and distances, with the result that, in 
the end, the professional had done little more than 
superintend the making of the greens. 

Much the same thing happened when the cham- 
pion was giving Hannibal his first lessons. Han- 
nibal listened attentively while the champion ex- 
plained the theory of the overlapping grip, and he 
watched attentively while the champion demon- 
strated its effectiveness. Then, in a few rapid 
sentences, Hannibal had disproved the whole the- 
ory, and, taking up the driver, promptly driven 
two hundreds yards in precisely the right direc- 
tion with his hands at least an inch apart. When 
the professional finally left him, Hannibal was do- 
ing everything in a strictly unscientific way, and, 
as often as not, beating bogey. . . . 

“ Now, Mr. Pook, will you drive off first? You 
can see the flag. Let me warn you to keep out 
of rough on the right. If you once land yourself 
in that, you’ll be in no end of a bother.” 

Mr. Pook planted his little feet very firmly 
and very wide apart, took a big swipe with his 
driver, and drove straight into the rough. An 
expert would have said that he did it on purpose, 
but Hannibal’s only comment was to play his own 
ball to within fifty yards of the green. He then 
helped Mr. Pook in the necessary search. Mr. 


HER LADYSHIP 


289 


Pook, somehow or another, had failed to mark 
his ball, and, as they were playing without caddies, 
this naturally gave time for conversation. 

“ I’ve been wanting to tell you, Mr. Quain, how 
greatly the Chief appreciates the support — the 
splendid support I — that you’re giving us in your 
wonderful paper! ” 

“ Thanks,” said Hannibal. . . . “ Did he go 
as far as that? ” 

“Further!” cried Mr. Pook, straightening 
himself and beaming at Hannibal. “ I don’t mind 
telling you, Mr. Quain, that the Chief — ” 

“ Oh,” replied Hannibal, laughing, “ I meant 
the ball.” 

“The ball? No, perhaps the ball didn’t go 
quite so far as this. ... As I was saying, the 
Chief wished me to express his warmest thanks 
for the noble work that you are doing. Now, 
Mr. Quain, what I want^ — ” 

“ Here you are,” said Hannibal. “ You’ll need 
a good shot with your mashie to land you on the 
fairway.” 

Mr. Pook made such a good shot with his 
mashie that his ball traveled just beyond Hanni- 
bal’s. As they walked along side by side, he 
began again : 

“ The great value of your paper, Mr. Quain, 
as you will perfectly realize — ” 

“ Which paper? ” asked Hannibal, suddenly. 

“ Why, the ‘ Little Daily,’ to be sure! ” 


290 


LORD LONDON 


“ Oh, I didn’t know. When one has so many 
papers — ” 

“ Of course,” put in Mr. Pook quickly, “ we 
don’t overlook the enormous influence of the 
‘ Evening.’ By the way, Mr. Quain, would you 
think me very impertinent if I asked you the com- 
bined circulation of your two papers ? ” 

“Not at all. Which two?” 

“ Your two daily papers, I mean.” 

“ Yes, but which two daily papers? ” 

Mr. Pook came to a sudden halt in the fairway, 
and stood looking at Hannibal. 

“ Have you more than two daily papers? ” 

“ I have twelve,” said Hannibal, casually. 

“ Good gracious me ! Fd no idea of that ! 
Some of them, surely, must be provincial pa- 
pers? ” 

“ Ten of them are provincial papers,” said Han- 
nibal, “ but don’t underestimate their importance 
on that account, Mr. Pook. I have recently ac- 
quired, for example, the ‘ Manchester Telegram.’ 
I suppose you know that in Manchester the opin- 
ion of the ‘ Telegram ’ goes a good deal further 
than the opinions of three London papers com- 
bined? ” 

“Yes, yes! So Fve always understood! But 
Fd no idea that you were extending your connec- 
tions in this way ! Twelve daily papers ! Dear 
me! They are all, I take it, Tory papers, Mr. 
Quain? ” 


HER LADYSHIP 


291 


“ At present,” said Hannibal, quietly. “ My 
play, I think.” And he lifted his ball prettily on 
to the green. 

Something seemed to have upset Mr. Pook’s 
nerves. At any rate, it took him no less than 
seven strokes to hole out. 

“ The Chief,” continued Mr. Pook, as they fol- 
lowed their balls in the direction of the second 
hole, “ would very much like to show some recog- 
nition of your extremely valuable services to the 
Party, Mr. Quain, but, of course, he would like 
to feel sure that your sympathies were, if I may 
put it in that way, of a permanent nature.” 

“ Nothing in this life is permanent, Mr. Pook.” 

“Very true! Very true!” Mr. Pook chuc- 
kled his appreciation of the repartee, and would 
no doubt have washed his hands very busily in- 
deed had not one held a club and the other a bag. 
“ A capital reply, Mr. Quain ! But one can some- 
times regard a man’s opinions on political matters 
as more or less settled, eh, Mr. Quain? ” 

“ More or less,” agreed Hannibal. 

“ Exactly. Now the Chief is very anxious to 
feel that he has in you a staunch adherent, and, 
with that end in view, if I may express his senti- 
ments in that way, he has sent me down here to 
approach you on the subject of some more or less 
adequate return for your splendid services to the 
Party. This is naturally a very delicate matter, 
but there are things in life, Mr. Quain — ” Here 


292 


LORD LONDON 


Pook looked up at his host with a questioning 
smile. 

“ There are,” said Hannibal. 

“ Quite so. It is one of the privileges of the 
Chief’s position that, in return for services to the 
Party, he can bestow certain honors that, as the 
opinion of the world goes, are not deemed alto- 
gether insignificant.” 

“ You to play, Mr. Pook. And let me give you 
one piece of advice: Aim as high as you can.” 

Again Mr. Pook looked up shrewdly into the 
face of his host. 

“ Do you follow that advice yourself, Mr. 
Quain? ” 

“ Invariably,” replied Hannibal. 

Mr. Pook then played. Unfortunately, his 
ball struck the bank and rolled back again almost 
to his feet. 

“ What did I tell you? ” said Hannibal. “ You 
see, Mr. Pook, in a situation like this, it is almost 
impossible to aim too high. I find myself con- 
fronted by a lofty bank to the summit of which 
I must drive my ball. Taking into consideration 
the limitations of my clubs and the skill with which 
I handle them, it is almost impossible for me to 
aim too high. If I do happen to overshoot the 
green a little, I can always play back. On the other 
hand, if I don’t aim high enough, my ball strikes 
the bank, returns almost to the very spot from 
which it started, and I’m a stroke to the bad.” 


HER LADYSHIP 


293 


After Hannibal had won the second hole, and 
they had driven off toward the third, Mr. Pook 
seemed anxious to look a little more closely into 
Hannibal’s theory of aiming high. 

“ Tell me, Mr. Quain, if you will: do you play 
this game according to the accepted theories, or 
have you a theory of your own?” 

“ I have a theory of my own.” 

“ Then you don’t trust to the generally ac- 
cepted principles of the game?” 

“ No, because they don’t happen to suit me. 
Without any desire to be egotistical, Mr. Pook, 
I have always regarded myself, even from boy- 
hood, as being somewhat of an exceptional sort of 
person. Don’t misunderstand me. I wouldn’t 
for worlds have you think that I rate myself 
higher than any other man, but it seems to me that, 
by consistently aiming higher, I get higher.” 

“We’re still talking about golf?” put in Mr. 
Pook, quickly. 

“ Certainly, although my remarks would also 
apply to the bigger game.” 

“ In other words, Mr. Quain, you wish me to 
understand that what would satisfy the majority 
of men in your position — ” 

“ There are no men in my position, Mr. Pook.” 

“ Quite true. Very true. I spoke without 
thinking.” 

“ You have a fine lie for a brassie-shot.” 

Mr. Pook took the hint, and brought off a fine 


294 


LORD LONDON 


stroke. Hannibal followed, and, after an exciting 
struggle on the green, Mr. Pook won the hole. 

“ That leaves you one up,” he said. 

“ Quite correct. The next is a short hole. I 
generally drive from this hole with my cleek.” 

The fourth hole also fell to Mr. Pook, leaving 
them all square. 

“Do you know Monson?” asked Mr. Pook, 
carelessly, as they moved off to the fifth hole. 

“ Oh, yes. A very nice fellow.” 

“ And a very successful fellow.” 

“ Yes, a very successful fellow.” 

“ He was very pleased with his knighthood.” 

“ Pm sure he was.” 

“ And Lady Monson also, I think, was very 
pleased.” 

“ Pm sure she would be.” 

“ That is one very charming thing, Mr. Quain, 
about these honors which we are able to confer — 
they give as much pleasure, or even more pleasure, 
to the wives as to the husbands.” 

“ The pleasure of the wife is more than half 
the reward of the husband,” said Hannibal. 

“ Monson has done a great deal for us, as you 
know.” 

“ Really?” 

“ Oh, yes, a very great deal. We couldn’t have 
offered him anything less than a knighthood.” 

“ No,” agreed Hannibal, “ you couldn’t.” 

There was something in the tone that caused 


HER LADYSHIP 


295 


Mr. Pook to glance at his host very sharply from 
the corner of his eye, but Hannibal was apparently 
thinking more of his next stroke than of the trend 
of the conversation. 

“ Of course,” Mr. Pook reminded him, “ there 
are lesser things.” 

“Are there?” 

“ Oh, yes.” 

“Worth consideration?” 

“ That depends upon the man.” 

“ Exactly.” 

Hannibal won the fifth hole, and made a very 
pretty drive almost on to the green of the sixth. 
Mr. Pook, bracing himself for a mighty effort, 
drove right on to the green. 

“ Fine ! ” cried Hannibal. “ Why, you’re quite 
a player, Mr. Pook! ” 

“ I wish I had more time to practice,” replied 
Mr. Pook, modestly. 

“ You should run down to Herrick Court when- 
ever you feel inclined for a game. My links are 
always at your disposal, and, if I’m not here my- 
self, one of my secretaries would be only too 
pleased to give you a game.” 

“ That’s very kind of you — most kind. I shall 
certainly avail myself of the invitation. What a 
large number of people you must have in your 
employ, Mr. Quain! ” 

“ Yes, a very large number.” 

“ Have you any idea how many? ” 


296 


LORD LONDON 


“ Not precisely. Several hundred, however.” 

“ Indeed!” 

Mr. Pook said no more until they had left for 
the seventh hole. He had won the sixth, leaving 
them still all square. 

“ I often wonder,” observed Hannibal, gently, 
“ whether you people, when you are awarding 
these little prizes of which we have been speaking, 
take into account the services that a man is likely 
to render you in the future, or whether you dwell 
merely on the past. Take a man like Monson, 
for instance. Monson, I suppose, contributed 
very handsomely to the Party chest.” 

Mr. Pook playfully raised the shaft of his 
driver to his lips. 

“ Quite so,” agreed Hannibal. “ Perhaps I 
was wrong to mention any particular name. Let 
us take the case of any man who contributes to 
the Party chest. You award him a knighthood, 
and there the matter ends. He has made his 
contribution, and, in all probability, he will not 
make any further contribution. He receives his 
knighthood and that, as I say, is the end of the 
matter. But there are services, Mr. Pook, far 
above contributions to the Party chest, and a man 
who had rendered such services would naturally 
feel hurt if those services met with nothing more 
than a merely mechanical recognition, so to speak. 
I am, of course, talking quite impersonally, Mr. 
Pook.” 


HER LADYSHIP 297 

“ Oh, quite. I quite understand that. I see that 
we’ve arrived at another bank, Mr. Quain. This 
time I shall take your advice and aim high.” 

He did so, and landed his ball exactly on the 
summit of the bank. 

“ A good shot,” said Hannibal, “ but it might 
have been even better than that. A little more 
persuasion in the club, Mr. Pook, and you would 
have been on the green. As it is, you have given 
me an excellent chance of winning the 
hole.” 

And win it he did, but Mr. Pook won the 
eighth, so that they were still all square when they 
found themselves at the ninth green. Mr. Pook’s 
ball lay two feet from the hole, and Hannibal’s 
was quite five feet away. They had each played, 
up to this point, seven strokes. 

“ This is exciting,” said Mr. Pook. 

“ Not very, I fear,” replied Hannibal. 
“ You’ve beaten me, Mr. Pook. Will you just 
hole out and put me out of my agony? ” 

Mr. Pook took up his position with great care, 
measured the distance with his eye three times, 
played, and — missed. 

Hannibal, in his turn, prepared to putt. In 
circumstances of this sort, he had one rule for 
himself which he always respected, namely, to 
play as though nothing depended upon it. The 
rule stood him in good stead, and the ball dropped 
easily and prettily into the hole. 


298 


LORD LONDON 


“Fine!” cried Mr. Pook. “You’ve beaten 
me, Mr. Qualn.” 

“ But what an excellent game ! ” observed Han- 
nibal. 

“Excellent! Most excellent! And I enjoyed 
it every bit as much as though we had been playing 
for a very high stake.” 

“Weren’t we?” asked Hannibal, letting his 
putter fall into the bag and looking straight at 
Mr. Pook. 

“ Well,” replied Mr. Pook, “ do you know, I 
believe we were.” 


XVI 


“ TO MEET SIR HANNIBAL QUAIN ” 

T he largest dining-salon at the Alhambra 
Hotel had been set aside for the occasion. 
At first, it had been thought that the din- 
ner would be a comparatively small affair, confined 
to the editors of Hannibal’s publications and the 
heads of departments. But it was soon found that 
the junior members were most anxious to join in 
this congratulatory feast. The matter was there- 
fore laid before Hannibal, who at once expressed 
his desire to meet, on this memorable occasion, as 
many of his staff as the room would hold. 

The stream of diners began at seven o’clock, 
and continued without any break at all until twenty 
minutes to eight. Mr. Clement Jeakes, of course, 
who was to take the chair, felt very much at home 
at the Alhambra Hotel. He lunched there four 
days a week, surrounded by clever and beautiful 
people, and was well-known to the management 
and the waiters. Mr. Radford, too, now the 
editor of the “ Little Daily,” was on familiar 
ground in the magnificent entrance-hall and dining- 
299 


300 


LORD LONDON 


rooms of the Alhambra Hotel. Mr. Sandown 
strolled in at seven-thirty-five with his crush-hat 
rather at the back of his head, a cigarette between 
his lips, and his hands in his pockets. Billy Fox, 
the famous war-correspondent of the “ Little 
Daily,” was even later on the scene than Mr. 
Sandown, and slipped into the reception room 
through a curious little door in the corner. The 
junior members of the staff, to whom Billy was 
almost as great an idol as Hannibal himself, 
nudged each other gleefully as the war-correspond- 
ent came in by the small door, and told each other, 
with many winks, that Billy “ knew his way about 
town all right ” and had been having a cocktail in 
the bar. 

The junior members felt rather awe-stricken 
by the magnificence of their surroundings. Many 
had arrived far too early, and, even then, had had 
to run the gauntlet of the “ swells ” in the foyer. 
Most of them were acutely conscious of the fact 
that their hats were bowlers, their overcoats not 
the correct shape or style to wear with evening 
dress, and they were not quite sure whether they 
ought to carry their hats through the hall or keep 
them on till they came to the cloak-room. They 
wondered how long it had taken Sandown to ac- 
quire that manner of being perfectly at home in 
the Alhambra Hotel, and whether they would 
ever become such a great, and such a wealthy, and 
such a casual character themselves. 


SIR HANNIBAL QUAIN 


301 


Hannibal arrived in excellent time, and went to 
and fro among the junior members with a 
word for all of them. Had you followed in his 
trail, you would have heard this sort of thing, 
almost in the nature of a monologue : 

“ Good evening, Mr. James. How are you 
this evening? I liked your last number better 
than any that you’ve so far turned out. . . . Ah, 
Mr. Etherington. How are you? I’m looking 
into that little matter. You shall hear something 
in a day or two. . . . Well, Coke ! Popped over 
from Berlin, then, to help me out this evening? 
That’s very good of you. How are things in 
Berlin? I expect I shall be looking you up one 
day next week. I’m coming over on business. 
. . . Good evening, Trundley. I saw that you 
settled that little matter quite satisfactorily. You 
must expect that sort of troubles — can’t run any 
kind of a paper without occasional difficulties crop- 
ping up. I’ve had thousands of ’em in my time. 
. . . Well, Lovell. How’s your father? Did 
that little trip down to Gibraltar do him good? 
I insisted on his taking a holiday. He doesn’t 
get away enough. . . . Ah, Lawley. A great 
match last Saturday. What we want, though, is 
a bowler. See if you can’t find one, will you? 
We can easily give him something to do in one 
department or another. . . .” 

At last an official with a sonorous voice an- 
nounced that dinner was served, and Mr. Jeakes 


302 


LORD LONDON 


led the way into the great dining-salon, followed 
by Sir Hannibal, who was followed by Hasdrubal, 
who was followed by Socrates, Virgil, and Gala- 
had. Mr. Radford came next with Billy Fox, 
and Mr. Sandown was just behind, hastily finishing 
a story into Billy Fox’s right ear. Then came all 
the junior members of the staff, shrewdly observ- 
ant of the gilding and the mirrors, and the long 
tables, and the glittering fish-knives and forks, and 
wondering why the melon had been served at the 
wrong end of dinner, but taking care not to ask 
each other anything about it, and, on the whole, 
already feeling much jollier and more at home. 

Grace was said by the toast-master at the request 
of Mr. Jeakes, and then they all sat down and 
dug into the pieces of melon. Obsequious waiters 
poured wine into the delicate glasses to the right 
of each place, and the junior members immedi- 
ately took a gulp, with the result that the subdued 
murmur of conversation suddenly swelled into 
something like a babel. Mr. Jeakes was seen to be 
sitting back in his chair, quite at his ease, and 
saying funny things to people at least six or eight 
places away. Sir Hannibal was talking in his 
animated fashion to a stranger on his right, who 
soon turned out to be no less a personage than 
the celebrated Sir John Sail, ex-Lord Mayor of 
London. 

Billy Fox had a group of admirers all to him- 
self, and kept them in roars of laughter. Mr. 


SIR HANNIBAL QUAIN 303 

Radford, as the reporters on the staff of the “ Lit- 
tle Daily ” noted, had quite thrown off the rather 
frightening editorial manner, and was raising his 
glass to various friends around him, and bowing 
low, and giving them one of his charming Irish 
smiles, and then drinking a little wine to show 
that he really meant it. 

And so the wonderful evening went on, dish 
succeeding dish, and beverage succeeding bever- 
age, until Mr. Etherington felt called upon to 
compare the decorations of the Alhambra Hotel 
rather unfavorably with the decorations of other 
hotels in which he had languished, and Mr. Coke 
saw no reason whatever why he should not be in 
Mr. Sandown’s shoes within a couple of years at 
the outside, and Mr. Trundley said, and meant it, 
that he didn’t care a damn for anybody. 

At last the full round voice of the toast-master 
was heard above the clatter, calling attention to 
the Chairman. Mr. Clement Jeakes rose to his 
feet, and was received with much clapping and 
cheering, in which the reporters and editorial staff 
of the “ Evening ” were conspicuously enthusi- 
astic. Mr. Jeakes called upon the company to 
drink the toast of the King, which, he said, needed 
no words from him to recommend it to their loy- 
alty and to their approval. The company, with 
one accord, rose to its feet, and, amid murmurs 
of “The King!” duly honored the toast, Mr. 
Trundley adding, loudly and fervently, “ God 


304 


LORD LONDON 


bless ’im ! ” This, for some reason or another, 
caused general laughter, in which the chairman 
and the guest of the evening joined. Everybody 
sat down again feeling very pleased about every- 
thing, and the toast-master again called attention 
to the chairman. More applause at this, the re- 
porters and the sub-editorial staff of the “ Even- 
ing ” now going so far as to hammer upon the 
table with the handles of their dessert-knives. 

Mr. Jeakes said: “ Gentlemen, it is my great 
privilege to give you the toast of Mr. Hannibal 
Quain (Several voices: “ Sir! ” and much laugh- 
ter). I humbly beg his pardon; Sir Hannibal 
Quain. (Renewed laughter.) You must not 
blame me too much for making that little slip, be- 
cause it is very difficult to keep pace with anybody 
who travels so fast as our guest to-night. (Much 
cheering and applause. Mr. Trundley sings the 
first line of “ He’s a jolly good fellow,” hut is 
hushed down.) It is only twenty years, gentle- 
men, since Sir Hannibal Quain made his attack on 
Fleet Street with a little paper entitled “ You and 
I.” (Loud applause, led by Mr. Sandown, and 
promptly backed up by the staff of “ You and I.”) 
That litde paper, as you know — indeed, I may 
say, as all the world knows — at once sprang into 
a colossal success (Applause). In spite of many 
imitators, it still holds its own in the hearts and 
in the homes of English people the world over. 
Not content, however, with this single success. 


SIR HANNIBAL QUAIN 305 

Sir Hannibal Quain followed it up with many, and, 
if possible, more glorious successes, until to-day 
he is, without doubt, the greatest and the most 
powerful owner of newspapers and periodicals in 
this country. (Loud and prolonged applause.) 

“ You see him before you this evening, gentle- 
men, at the early age of thirty-nine, a millionaire 
and a baronet! (Terrific applause, several of 
the junior members rising excitedly from their 
places and clapping their hands directly at Hanni- 
bal.) I believe I am correct in stating, gentlemen, 
that Sir Hannibal Quain, who is quite accustomed 
by this time to breaking records (laughter), has 
broken yet one more record in being created a 
baronet at the early age of thirty-nine ! I believe 
I am correct in saying that never before in the 
history of this country has any man been created 
a baronet so young as Sir Hannibal Quain ! * 
(Great applause.) 

“ Well, gentlemen, I am not going to detain 
you by making a long speech (“Goon!”) No, 
gentlemen, I will not go on because there is nothing 
new that I can tell you about our guest to-night. 
You all know his genius for organization, his ge- 
nius for journalism, and his genius for discovering 
the right man for the right jobs. (Much ap- 
plause and some laughter.) You all know how 
quick he is to discover the slacker and the waster; 
(“We do ” from Mr. Trundley, and much laugh- 
ter) ; but you also know that he is equally quick 


LORD LONDON 


306 

to applaud, and to encourage, and to promote the 
clever man, the energetic man, and the loyal 
worker (Tremendous applause). I will there- 
fore ask you to charge your glasses, and to drink 
with musical honors the health of our chief. Sir 
Hannihal Quain ! ” 

Up sprang the company, and, in varying keys 
hut with great heartiness, the toast was musically 
honored. Down they sat again, and Mr. Jeakes 
then called upon Sir Hannibal Quain. 

Hannibal was greeted with a great burst of 
cheering that was heard all over the hotel. It 
was quite like him, in the midst of all this excite- 
ment and enthusiasm, to be the calmest person in 
the room. He must have felt considerable emo- 
tion, for no man could have stood in his place 
and looked at those eager young faces without 
feeling emotion, but he betrayed it neither in his 
face nor in the sentiments he expressed. He 
said: 

“ Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, I wish to thank 
you very heartily indeed for the very kind way 
in which you have received the toast of my health 
this evening. It was a source of considerable 
gratification to me when I learned that those in 
authority wished to confer upon me this very great 
honor, and, gentlemen, it was a source of consid- 
erable gratification, not so much because It was 
upon me as an Individual that the honor fell, but 


SIR HANNIBAL QUAIN 307 

more for the reason that I knew and felt that 
those in authority, in thus honoring me, were hon- 
oring all of you, my loyal colleagues. (Great 
applause.) I think I know, gentlemen, the spirit 
in which those in authority decided to confer this 
honor upon the firm of which I happen to be the 
head. They said to themselves, ‘ Here are all 
these young people working away to the very best 
of their energies and abilities, and it behoves us 
to do something for them.’ (Applause.) I am 
sure, gentlemen, that that was what they had in 
their minds, and I want you, therefore, each one 
of you, to take encouragement to himself from 
the recognition that has been granted to our busi- 
ness. 

“ Mr. Jeakes has said that I am as quick to 
recognize the good worker as I am to get rid of 
the slacker and the waster. I hope that is true, 
gentlemen. (Applause, and cries of “ It is.”) 
If that is true, gentlemen, I can assure you that I 
intend to go on in the way that I have commenced, 
and I use the word commenced advisedly, for if 
so much has been accomplished in the last twenty 
years, who shall say what the next twenty years 
may bring forth? (Enormous applause lasting 
a full minute.) Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, 
once again I thank you.” 

There were a few more speeches after that, but 
the greater portion of the evening was given up 


3o8 


LORD LONDON 


to comic songs and ventriloquism. The company 
did not break up until after eleven o’clock, and 
portions of it remained together in various places 
until the small hours of Sunday morning. 

Hannibal and Hasdrubal drove off, amid much 
raising of hats and waving of hands, in Hannibal’s 
electric brougham. 

“ A very successful evening,” observed Has- 
drubal. 

“ Quite.” 

“ I thought Jeakes’s speech very happy — just 
the right length.” 

“ Yes, very happy. ... By the way, what are 
you doing to-morrow?” 

“ Well, I wanted to get some golf.” 

“ Can you come down to Herrick Court with 
me in the morning? You could have a round or 
two there in the afternoon.” 

“ Business? ” 

“ Yes, rather important business.” 

Hasdrubal laughed. “ I never knew such a 
chap as you, Han,” he said. “ I should have 
thought that even you would be satisfied for a bit.” 

“ That’s just it. I want to get things so ar- 
ranged that I can take more time off. Will you 
call for me at eleven o’clock? ” 

“ All right, if it won’t wait.” 

“ Thanks. Good-night, Has.” 

“ Good-night, Han.” 


SIR HANNIBAL QUAIN 


309 


And so the brothers parted. Hasdrubal knew 
very well that, whatever arrangement might be 
schemed out on the morrow, the one thing Hanni- 
bal could not and would not do was to cut himself 
off from the office. 


XVII 

SHARES IN THE ' LITTLE DAILY ' ” 


N' 


u -m. “^OW,” said Hasdrubal. 

He had motored down to Herrick 
Court with Hannibal, and he had 
played a round with a member of the Cabinet 
and beaten him, and he had lunched. Now the 
brothers were sitting quite by themselves In a 
secluded corner of the South Terrace. Hannibal 
was not smoking, but Hasdrubal had just lighted 
a cigar. A footman had placed his coffee on a 
little table at his left elbow. The sun was shining, 
there was not a cloud In the sky, but a gentle breeze 
just fanned their faces and helped them to think. 

Twenty years had passed since Hannibal had 
dashed down to Clinton Bagot on his bicycle to 
secure Sheila as his helpmate. The twenty years 
between nineteen and thirty-nine make far more 
difference In a man, of course, than the twenty 
years between thirty-nine and fifty-nine. Hanni- 
bal was still clean-shaven, he was tending neither 
to baldness or grayness, and his long fair fringe 
was still brushed slant-wise across his forehead. 

The only indication of the passage of those 
twenty years was an Increase in weight. He was 

310 


SHARES IN THE “LITTLE DAILY” 31 1 

not by any means gross, for his habits of life were 
Spartan in the extreme, but his shoulders were 
broader and his face fuller. He had always been 
rather commanding in appearance; there was a 
ruthless look about those clear blue eyes that was 
very largely responsible for the exaggerated sto- 
ries of his steam-roller tactics so prevalent in 
Fleet Street. His fantastic success, naturally, had 
done nothing to mitigate this somewhat imperial 
demeanor; nineteen years ago, he had had the air 
of a boy who meant to succeed in life — to-day 
he had the air of a man who had succeeded in 
life, but not fantastically, not beyond his expecta- 
tions. You would not have said, had you met 
him this Sunday afternoon for the first time, that 
his life’s work was done; you would have been 
more likely to wonder what that alert look and 
resolute compression of the lips portended in the 
future. 

Hasdrubal, as we noted in our opening chap- 
ter, was rather bigger in frame than Hannibal. 
The family resemblance was very strong; Has- 
drubal, too, had straight fair hair and blue eyes 
and a commanding look; but Hasdrubal’s face was 
less mobile than Hannibal’s, partly due to the fact 
that he wore a fairly heavy mustache. We shall 
have done Hasdrubal a great injustice if the reader 
has come to look upon him as a mere adjunct to 
Hannibal, whose position in life had been a present 
to him from his elder brother. Hasdrubal would 


312 


LORD LONDON 


be the first to admit that Hannibal provided him 
with his great opportunity in life, but, at the same 
time, he had very great gifts of his own, and it 
is difficult to say to what position of wealth and 
importance he might not have risen had he not 
devoted his financial talents to the furtherance and 
consolidation of Hannibal’s business. As a mat- 
ter of fact, he was destined, before very long, to 
be the recipient of an honor precisely similar to 
that just bestowed on Hannibal; but it must be re- 
membered that this is a story of Hannibal, and not 
of Hasdrubal, or of his younger brothers. 

“ Now,” said Hasdrubal. 

“ I told you last night,” Hannibal began, “ that 
I wanted to put things on such a basis that I 
shouldn’t feel myself so tied to the office.” 

“ Getting tired of it? ” 

“ No, I’m not tired of it, but one cannot con- 
tinue in the same groove without running the risk 
of getting tired, and to get tired is to get bored, 
and to get bored is to get old. I shall always, as 
you know, keep a fatherly eye on all my papers, 
especially the ‘ Little Daily.’ ” 

“ I’m sure you will,” said Hasdrubal, smiling 
slightly. 

“ The ‘ Little Daily,’ ” continued Hannibal, “ is 
no longer in a state of infancy or even in a state of 
youth. It has grown up into a very sturdy man- 
hood, and, like all sturdy young men, it demands 
to go out into the world.” 


SHARES IN THE “LITTLE DAILY” 313 

“ In other words, you’re going to turn it into 
a limited liability company.” 

“ No. I’m not going to turn it into a limited 
liability company. I hate the thought and I hate 
the phrase. The ‘ Little Daily ’ is far too big a 
thing to be sold to the public like a pound of cheese. 
I want the people who buy and read the ‘ Little 
Daily,’ and the people through whom it is sold, 
and the people who work for it to feel that it is 
bone of their bone, and flesh of their flesh. I 
know as well as you do that we could easily raise 
a million pounds or so by selling the ‘ Little Daily ’ 
and the ‘ Evening ’ and the ‘ Saturday Postman ’ 
to the public, but what would be the good of that 
to me? What do I want with a million pounds 
just for the sake of the million pounds? ” 

“ You could still keep a controlling interest.” 

“Yes, I know that, and I always shall keep a 
controlling interest in my papers as long as I 
live, but don’t you see what I’m driving at? I 
want them — especially the ‘ Little Daily ’ — to 
become the property of the great family of Great 
Britain. Now, how is this to be achieved? Why, 
by distributing the shares in small parcels to a 
huge number of people with a variety of inter- 
ests, instead of letting them be snapped up by 
large investors and Stock Exchange operators. 
Whenever I motor through an English village, and 
see the contents-board of the ‘ Little Daily ’ out- 
side the shop of a small newsagent, I want to feel 


314 


LORD LONDON 


that that small newsagent has a real personal in- 
terest in the prosperity of the ‘ Little Daily.’ So 
that there must be a certain proportion of shares 
set aside for the retail trade. There must also 
be a certain proportion set aside for the whole- 
sale trade. The advertisers should be allowed 
the first chance to buy another section of the shares, 
and I want very particularly the men who have 
worked with me in building up the paper to have 
a proprietary interest in it.” 

“ A very excellent scheme,” agreed Hasdru- 
bal. 

His business intelligence at once grasped the 
fact that Hannibal had hit upon an idea which 
should insure, so far as any business arrangement 
could insure it, the permanent commercial welfare 
of these papers. This, it is interesting to note, is 
exactly what was always happening to these for- 
tunate young men: Hannibal would be seized 
with a wonderful ideal, and would expound it to 
Hasdrubal with all the glowing enthusiasm of a 
Crusader. Hasdrubal might at first feel a little 
skeptical, but presently he would come to see that 
that glorious dream was based upon a very solid 
foundation of commercial practicability; Hasdru- 
bal would then become every whit as keen upon the 
ideal as Hannibal, and together they would work 
out the details and bring the matter to a victorious 


issue. 


SHARES IN THE “LITTLE DAILY” 315 

“ Yes,” mused Hannibal, “ I think it is a grand 
scheme.” 

“ When did you think of it? ” 

“ Last night at dinner.” 

“ When you were making your speech? ” 

“No, when Jeakes was making his speech. I 
looked round the room, and I saw all those young 
fellows eagerly following every word, and ap- 
plauding any kind reference to me with all their 
hearts. And I said to myself, ‘ What can I do 
to repay all this loyalty? Why should all these 
young fellows be content to work for me instead 
of working for themselves? Why shouldn’t they 
all give me notice to-morrow, and start on their 
own just as I did twenty years ago ? ’ And then 
I thought, ‘ What a splendid thing it would be if 
they could all have some share in the advancement 
of my papers over and above their mere salaries ! ’ 
And then, in an instant, the plan came into my 
head that I have just sketched out to you.” 

“ By the way,” asked Hasdrubal, “ have you 
thought who the directors are to be? ” 

“Yes. Jeakes will, of course, be one; you’ll 
be another; and Radford will be the third.” 

“ That means that Radford must hold a sub- 
stantial number of shares.” 

“ I know — we must arrange that. I should 
like him to have enough shares to make his wife 
and family feel assured as to the future. He will 


LORD LONDON 


316 

apply for the shares and pay for them, but I shall 
see to it that they don’t cost him anything.” 

“You’re a good sort, Han.” 

“ I’m very fond of Radford. He has worked 
splendidly for me and with me, and, apart from 
that, he has stability. You don’t see as much of 
him in the office as I do. The time to appreciate 
Radford is when there is anything big on — when 
other people are getting panicky and look like 
losing their heads.” 

“ In other words,” suggested Hasdrubal, 
“ when you get the bit between your teeth? ” 

“ Radford certainly has a restraining influence,” 
admitted Hannibal. “ Sometimes I find his very 
firm hands on the reins a little irksome, and it 
tends to make me restless. But, if he can hold me, 
he can hold the rest of the team, and that is the 
sort of man I want as my editor. I’m not afraid 
of the paper lacking fire; we’re far more likely to 
get too much fire into it than too little. The 
‘ Little Daily ’ has reached a point when the policy 
must be constructive and not destructive. The 
destructive policy may make livelier reading, but 
the country deserves something more of us now 
than lively reading. A paper with the huge cir- 
culation of the ‘ Little Daily ’ has a mission, and 
its mission is to safeguard the interests of the 
public. Radford, at bottom, is a serious-minded 
fellow, as well as an exceptionally able editor. It 
will be a very great pleasure to me to feel that I 


SHARES IN THE “LITTLE DAILY” 317 


have secured his lifelong interest in my paper, and, 
I don’t mind adding, a very great comfort. . . . 
Well, that’s enough business for a fine Sunday. 
Would you like another round? ” 

“Yes, I think another round would suit me 
very well. Should I put all this in train to-mor- 
row? ” 

“ Yes, and I will have an announcement pre- 
pared for the paper. We must get a good line 
for the contents-bills. How do you think, 
‘ SHARES IN THE LITTLE DAILY ’ WOuld look? ” 

“ I think it would look very pretty,” said Has- 
drubal. 


XVIII 


DINNER FOR TWO IN DOWNING STREET 

A YEAR had passed since the conversation 
recorded in the last chapter took place 
on the South Terrace at Herrick Court. 
It had been a year of wonderful prosperity 
in the lives of Hannibal’s papers. The formation 
of the company had been a complete success, and 
it not only stimulated the interest of the Trade 
and the advertisers, but also awakened the public 
to the fact that the “ Little Daily ” was actually 
a thriving commercial concern. Old-fashioned 
people rubbed their eyes when they read the ac- 
count of the first year’s trading as a company. 
They had so often told each other, and so thor- 
oughly believed, that a halfpenny daily morning 
newspaper was a wild-cat scheme at the best that 
they were hard put to it now to realize that the 
“ Little Daily ” had come to stay. 

But, while it had been a year of prosperity for 
Hannibal’s papers, it had been a year of grave 
misgivings, to say the least of It, for the country 
at large. A statesman had returned from South 
Africa Imbued with the Idea of Empire, and he told 
his fellow-countrymen that the only way in which 

318 


DINNER FOR TWO 


319 


the British Empire could be consolidated was to 
put the Empire on a family basis; that is to say, 
England must regard herself in the light of a 
mother, and must regard the Colonies In the light 
of children. Just as the mother enables her young 
children to make their way in the world before 
she lavishes her care and attention on the children 
of her neighbors, so England must encourage 
trade with her Colonies by allowing them to deal 
with the Old Country on rather better terms than 
England gave to other people. 

England, as we have said, was considerably 
exercised in mind over this suggestion. No two 
men seemed to be agreed upon it. There never 
was a more fruitful topic for argument. When- 
ever two men met, the question was bound to 
crop up, and, while one man saw in the suggestion 
a great scheme for the welding together of the 
Empire, the other saw in it nothing but ruin and 
devastation and starvation. They would begin 
by talking quietly, reasonably, logically; this 
would continue until they reached the inevitable 
point when knowledge ended and conjecture be- 
gan. Conjecture Invariably leads to flights of Im- 
agination, flights of Imagination lead to wild state- 
ments, and wild statements lead to vigorous contra- 
diction, and so come anger, abusive epithets, 
flushed faces, loud voices, broken friendships, and, 
sometimes broken noses. 

This sort of thing was going on all over the 


320 


LORD LONDON 


country in every possible shade of society. In 
the House of Lords, in the House of Commons, 
in the clubs, at dinner-parties, at garden-parties, 
in theaters, in music-halls, in the drawing-rooms 
of bishops, and the hovels of laborers — Tariff 
Reform was the burning question of the hour, 
and the question upon which no two men could 
agree. 

Hannibal, of course, had to be well in it. His 
attitude was rather curious. One would have 
supposed, knowing him as a man of imagination, 
and a man whose ideas and interests were not 
limited to these islands, that he would have 
plumped for the consolidation of the Empire by 
means of preferential treatment at all costs; that 
he would have said, “ Expense be hanged ! What 
does it matter if we are ten millions, or a hundred 
millions, or a thousand millions out of pocket! 
At all costs, the Empire must be drawn closer to- 
gether, for we exist as an Empire and not merely 
as the British Isles ! ” 

But that was not Hannibal’s attitude. His pa- 
pers spoke, it is true, in glowing terms of the unity 
of the Empire, but month after month went by, 
and the readers of the “ Little Daily ” could not 
exactly discover whether they were to support the 
suggestion of the eminent statesman who had been 
their idol, or whether he had made the one great 
mistake of his career. Nor were they alone in 
their doubt. The policy of the “ Little Daily ” 


DINNER FOR TWO 


321 

was causing a good deal of anxiety in Downing 
Street. 

Downing Street was not so foolish as to con- 
ceal from itself the influence of the paper among 
the voters of the country. Members of the Gov- 
ernment were always moving to and fro in the 
constituencies, and, wherever they went, keeping 
their eyes open as it was their duty to do, they 
saw people with copies of the “ Little Daily ” in 
their hands. They saw it on book-stalls, and 
they saw it in railway-trains, and they saw it in 
hotels, and they saw references to it in other 
papers, and they saw it in the houses of their 
friends. 

But, quite apart from the “ Little Daily,” and 
the “ Evening,” they thought of those ten pro- 
vincial papers, the news of the purchase of which 
had caused Mr. Pook to foozle several strokes 
on the links at Herrick Court. They could easily 
imagine the combined effect of all these daily 
papers on the minds of the thousands and thou- 
sands of readers. They tried very hard to get 
Hannibal to commit himself definitely, therefore, 
to the policy of Tariff Reform, but, with the as- 
tuteness to which they had now become accus- 
tomed, he easily succeeded in eluding their bravest 
efforts. Dangerous invitations to dinner invari- 
ably found him with a previous engagement; his 
own dinner parties, at this period, failed to in- 
clude any leading light of the Tariff Reform party; 


322 


LORD LONDON 


they knew he was in England, they knew he was 
in London, and they knew he was in daily attend- 
ance at his office : and still not one of them could 
bring him to book on the subject. 

The worst of it was that, as the weeks went by, 
the editorials of the “ Little Daily ” seemed to be 
growing positively hostile to the policy to which 
the Government was committed. Leaders of 
the Party assured each other that this was merely 
a case of nerves on their part, but the assurance 
was made without conviction. A general election 
might be upon them at any moment, and they shud- 
dered to think of the terrible havoc that would 
be wrought in their ranks if Hannibal’s entire 
group of papers, led by the “ Little Daily ” and 
the “ Evening,” was ranged on the side of the 
enemy. Such a disastrous state of affairs could 
not be tolerated even in thought. 

The climax came on a certain morning in June. 
The leaders of the Party awoke one morning to 
find awaiting them a definite challenge in the leader 
of the “ Little Daily.” If, said the leader. Tariff 
Reform meant an improvement in the condition 
of the People, and Ministers were prepared to 
pledge themselves to that, well and good, but, if 
it meant an Increase in the cost of living, the Peo- 
ple would have none of it. 

Here, at last, it seemed, was the pronouncement 
for which they had been waiting. It had been 
generally admitted that the Old Country must be 


DINNER FOR TWO 


323 


prepared to make some sacrifices for the sake of 
the New Country. It had been explained, with a 
great deal of patriotic eloquence, that parents 
could not advance their children in the world with- 
out denying themselves something. It had been 
stated, certainly, that the parents need not deny 
themselves very much; in order to show the par- 
ents just how much they would be expected to deny 
themselves, two loaves had been held aloft at a 
meeting in Birmingham by the statesman responsi- 
ble for all this to-do, and people had seen for 
themselves that the loaf they could buy for five- 
pence-halfpenny under the new condition of things 
was very, very little smaller than the loaf they 
could buy for fivepence-halfpenny under the pres- 
ent condition of things; still, there was no con- 
cealment of the fact that they would have to deny 
themselves that fraction. And now, in the face 
of these admissions, came the “ Little Daily ” de- 
claring that the parents would deny themselves 
nothing. It was too bad! It was illogical! It 
was unfair ! It was unpatriotic ! It was unkind ! 

On the afternoon of the day upon which his 
leader appeared in the “ Little Daily,” Hannibal 
and Mr. Radford were sitting in Hannibal’s large 
and sumptuous room surrounded by the morning 
and evening daily newspapers. They had ex- 
pected their pronouncement to cause a flutter, and 
they were not disappointed. The Tory papers 
were paternally reproving; the Radical papers 


324 


LORD LONDON 


were guardedly jubilant; the only papers that gave 
unqualified support to Hannibal’s declaration 
were his own papers. 

Hannibal tossed an evening journal to the floor 
and looked at Radford. Radford smiled. 

“ They don’t seem to like it,” said Hannibal. 

“ Did you expect they would? ” 

“ I don’t care whether they do or not.” 

A slight pause. Radford was thinking. He 
never spoke without thinking, especially during 
these deliberations with Hannibal. 

“ What about to-morrow? ” he asked, at last. 

“ What about it? ” 

“ What are we going to say? ” 

“ Just what we’ve said to-day.” 

“ What’s that? ” 

“ Don’t you know? ” 

“ No, I don’t.” 

“ Well, I should advise you to read it.” 

“ I have read it. I know it by heart. But I 
don’t know what it means.” 

“ It means what it says.” 

“ But what does it say? ” 

“ Just what it means.” 

Radford laughed. “ That doesn’t seem to get 
us much further.” 

“ I don’t understand you.” 

“I don’t understand you.” 

“ That isn’t my fault.” 

“ If you’ll pardon my saying so, I think it is. 


DINNER FOR TWO 


325 

I regard myself as a person of ordinary intelli- 
gence. If I don’t know what you mean, how are 
other people to know what you mean ? ” 

“ You’re not a person of ordinary intelligence, 
Radford. That’s where you make a mistake. 
You’re a person of trained intelligence. You 
bring the journalistic mind to bear on a simple 
statement, and then you say you can’t understand 
the simple statement. But, because you don’t un- 
derstand it, you mustn’t suppose that other people 
won’t understand it.” 

“ I understand that they think they do, but what 
do they understand from it? ” 

” They undersand precisely what we’ve said.” 

“ But we’ve said nothing.” 

“ Yes, we have. Read the leader.” 

“ Very well.” Radford took up a copy of the 
“ Little Daily,” and gravely read the leader from 
start to finish. Then he looked across at Han- 
nibal. 

“ Well?” said Hannibal. 

“ I’m no further.” 

“ You don’t need to be any further.” 

“ Yes, I do.” 

“ Then, my dear fellow, what on earth do you 
want to know? ” 

“ I want to know whether we’re going to sup- 
port the Government or whether we’re going to 
throw them over.” 

“ You want to know more than I know myself. 


326 LORD LONDON 

Don’t you see, Radford, that it isn’t our turn to 
move? ” 

“ You expect them to move? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“When?” 

“ At once.” 

“ Very well. Then I’ll go upstairs and wait.” 

“ Why not wait here? ” 

“ With pleasure.” Radford sat down again. 

It was a curious situation. Here, on the one 
side, were two men, in an independent position, 
holding in their hands a huge weapon which they 
were at liberty to turn either upon the enemies of 
the Government or on the Government itself. A 
mile away, in Downing Street, were the members 
of the Cabinet, wondering how they were to pre- 
vent that huge weapon from being turned upon 
themselves, and how they could make sure of its 
being turned upon their enemies. . . . 

Hannibal and Radford sat in silence for nearly 
ten minutes, just as though they were waiting for 
something to happen. And, at the end of ten 
minutes, something did happen. The telephone 
on Hannibal’s desk gave a tiny tinkle. 

“ Shall I answer it? ” asked Radford. 

“ No. I’ll answer it myself.” 

It might have been the most ordinary communi- 
cation, and yet both seemed to know instinctively 
that it was not. 

Hannibal seated himself at his desk, drew the 


DINNER FOR TWO 


327 


instrument toward him, and took up the receiver. 

“Yes? ... Yes . . . What? ... I’m 
Sir Hannibal Quain . . . What? . . . Cer- 
tainly . . .” 

He turned to Radford, unable to repress a 
slightly triumphant smile. 

“ Here he is,” said Hannibal, in a low voice to 
Radford. 

“Who?” 

“ The Chief.” 

“ Himself? ” 

Hannibal nodded, and turned again to the tele- 
phone. 

“ How-d’you-do, Mr. Bothwell? . . . Yes, 
it’s Quain speaking. . . . This evening? . . . 
At eight? ... I shall be delighted. . . . 
Good-by.” 

Hannibal hung up the receiver and turned once 
again to Radford. 

“ Well,” he said, “ you shall be out of your 
quandary before we go to press to-night. Both- 
well has asked me to dine with him, quite alone, at 
eight.” 

“ Good,” said Radford. “ How much shall I 
keep open? ” 

“ The leader, of course, and the first news-col- 
umns. See Pocock at once, and tell him we shall 
be late with the leader-page.” 

“ Right,” said Radford, and he went quietly 
about his business. 


328 


LORD LONDON 


Left alone, Hannibal paced the floor for a few 
moments, deep in thought. He then took up his 
telephone and asked to be put through to Lady 
Quain. ... 

“ Is that you, dear? ” 

“ Yes, dear.” 

“ I just wanted to let you know that I shall be 
dining out to-night.” 

“ Of course. We’re dining with the Mort- 
locks.” 

“ Oh, bother! ” 

“ You really must go this time, dear. You’ve 
disappointed them twice lately.” 

“ Well, I’m afraid I must disappoint them a 
third time.” 

“ Oh, Han ! They’ll be furious ! ” 

“ I can’t help it. You must tell them it’s a mat- 
ter of business.” 

“ Is it really important business? ” 

“ Yes, it is rather important.” 

“ Where will you have your dinner? ” 

“ I’ll give you three guesses.” 

“ Oh, at the club, I suppose.” 

“ No, not at the club.” 

“ You’re not to have a chop at the office. I 
absolutely forbid it. You know what Sir James 
said about meals in the office.” 

“ No, I’m not going to have a chop at the of- 
fice.” 


DINNER FOR TWO 


329 

“ Why are you so mysterious ? Is it something 
exciting? ” 

“ Well, it may prove exciting or it may not.” 

“Don’t tantalize me any longer! Do tell 
me ! ” 

“ I’m dining in a little side-street off White- 
hall.” 

“ A little side-street off Whitehall 1 ” repeated 
Sheila. “ I don’t in the least understand ! ” 

“ A little street called Downing Street.” 

“Oh, Han! How dull!” 

“ No, I don’t think it will be dull.” 

“ Is it a very big dinner? ” 

“ No, I shouldn’t call it a big dinner.” 

“ Oh, I’m glad it isn’t one of those dreary of- 
ficial things. Who’s going to be there? ” 

“ I am.” 

“ I know that, duffer. Who else? ” 

“ Only one other person.” 

“ Good gracious ! I hope it’s somebody inter- 
esting.” 

“ Yes, he’s generally considered good com- 
pany.” 

“ Do tell me who it is ! ” 

“ It’s a man called Bothwell.” 

“ Han! Just you and Bothwell? Aren’t you 
rather frightened? ” 

“ Not a bit, but I think he’s rather frightened.” 

“ Yes, poor dear, I can quite understand that. 
You must be very kind to him.” 


330 


LORD LONDON 


“ I’ll be awfully kind. By the way, I shall be 
busy here for some little time yet. Would you 
mind sending Herbert along about seven o’clock 
with my things ? I’ll dress in the office.” 

“ All right, dear. Have a nice time. Will you 
be very late? ” 

“ I may be rather late, because I shall have to 
come back here after I leave Downing Street. 
Don’t sit up if you’re sleepy.” 

“ I shall be awake, whatever time it is. Mind 
you come and tell me all about it directly you come 
in.” 

“ All right, dear. Good-by.” 

Twenty years ago, Hannibal would certainly 
have been frightened at the idea of dining tete-a- 
tete with so great a personage as Bothwell, and 
he would have been still more frightened had the 
dinner been arranged to take place at Bothwell’s 
official residence in Downing Street. This even- 
ing, as his electric brougham stopped before the 
door of the historic residence, and his footman 
sprang from the box to help him out, and another 
footman came hastening down the steps to let him 
in, and a third footman held open the door as 
though to assure him that there was no mistake 
at all about the matter, and a fourth footman 
ushered him into a reception-room, Hannibal was 
not conscious of even the slightest tremor. His 


DINNER FOR TWO 


331 


equanimity was due to the fact that he was master 
of the situation, and knew it. He had not asked 
Bothwell to ask him to dine tete-a-tete at Down- 
ing Street; Bothwell had, of his own free will, ar- 
ranged the matter. This meant that Bothwell 
wanted something which it was in Hannibal’s 
power to grant — on the whole, a very pleasant 
feeling to have when one goes to dine with one 
of the greatest men in the world. 

When Mr. Bothwell entered the room, how- 
ever, you would never have supposed that he was 
at a disadvantage. A tall man, a good deal older 
than Hannibal, with a pronounced stoop, a very 
intellectual face, a manner exquisitely refined, and 
a smile of great charm, you would have said that 
Mr. Bothwell could never be at a disadvantage 
under any circumstances whatever. And yet it 
was not his height, or his breeding, or his knowl- 
edge of men, or'the consciousness of his charming 
personality that gave him this air of perfect self- 
confidence; it was merely the possession of an in- 
tellect superior to nine hundred and ninety-nine of 
the intellects with which he came in contact. Mr. 
Bothwell had long since discovered that there were 
very few men indeed on the surface of the globe 
who could hold their own with him in any discus- 
sion, with the exception of experts on technical 
matters with which he had, at the most, but a su- 
perficial acquaintance. Your expert is always a 


332 


LORD LONDON 


tyrant, and Mr. Bothwell was careful never to 
engage in any disputatious arguments with ex- 
perts. 

Hannibal, of course, was an expert in the news- 
paper business; on the other hand, Mr. Bothwell 
was an expert in the political business. Both these 
men, therefore, were supreme in their own way, 
and each was anxious to meet the other, not on the 
other’s ground, but on his own ground. It prom- 
ised to be a very interesting little dinner. 

“ Good evening. Sir Hannibal,” said Mr. Both- 
well, shaking hands. “ I do hope I haven’t kept 
you waiting.” 

“ Not at all,” replied Hannibal. “ I’ve hardly 
been here two minutes.” 

“ That’s good. You’ll pardon my asking you 
to dinner in this unceremonious way? My time, 
as you know, is never my own when Parliament is 
sitting, and I have to extend my little invitations 
always on the spur of the moment.” 

“ I quite understand.” 

“ I do hope you were free this evening? ” 

“ Oh, quite free, thanks.” 

“ That’s good. Well, I expect you’re ready 
for your dinner, and I know I’m quite ready for 
mine. I have dispensed with all ceremony. Sir 
Hannibal, and told them we would dine in my den. 
Will you come this way? ” 

Mr. Bothwell opened the door, and Hannibal 
preceded him out of the room. They crossed 


DINNER FOR TWO 


333 


the hall, ascended the first flight of stairs, and a 
footman threw open the door of Mr. Bothwell’s 
private dining-room. It was not a large room, 
and struck Hannibal as being uncommonly com- 
fortable for an official residence. 

“ One can see,” he said, “ that this is where you 
live, Mr. Bothwell.” 

Mr. Bothwell smiled. “ I can hardly say that,” 
he replied. “ One is really here more in the ca- 
pacity of a lodger.” 

“ Still, when the rooms are comfortable, lodg- 
ers have a way of sticking to them.” 

“ Unless the landlady makes other arrange- 
ments,” explained Mr. Bothwell. 

“ But I understand that you’re on excellent 
terms with your landlady? ” 

‘‘Oh, excellent! Quite excellent! Still, land- 
ladies are fickle creatures, and apt to be influ- 
enced.” 

‘‘ You mean that they listen to gossip? ” 

“ All landladies are human. Sir Hannibal. Sit 
down, won’t you ? ” 

They both sat, and the dinner began. It was 
not at all an elaborate dinner ^ — just a spoonful 
of clear soup, and a little salmon, and a roast 
chicken, and some asparagus. 

‘‘ What will you drink? ” asked Mr. Bothwell. 
“ A glass of champagne? ” 

‘‘ No, thank you. I rarely take anything.” 

‘‘Really! Some aerated water, perhaps?” 


334 


LORD LONDON 


“ Thank you. That will suit me admirably.” 

They conversed, during dinner, on all sorts of 
subjects, but Hannibal found that the conversa- 
tion was always coming round to his newspapers. 
Mr. Bothwell, it seemed, was profoundly ignorant 
on the subject of newspapers. His questions 
were delightfully ingenuous. He was very anx- 
ious to know just how they were printed, and how 
the news was collected, and whether there was not 
often a great difficulty in finding enough matter to 
fill them, and how long it took to write a leading 
article, and whether the work was not very trying. 
It was an old pose of Mr. Bothwell’s that he never 
looked at a newspaper, and Hannibal, though he 
knew this to be a pose, nevertheless chose to hu- 
mor his host. He gave him quite a lot of infor- 
mation about the productions of newspapers, and 
drew a graphic picture of the scene in the court- 
yard of his offices when the “ Little Daily ” was 
coming off the machines and being packed into the 
carts. He talked casually of circulations of a 
million, and appeared to astonish Mr. Bothwell 
with some account of the large sums that had been 
raised by the “ Little Daily ” in subscriptions from 
the public for charitable purposes, thus showing 
the far-reaching influence of the paper. Mr. 
Bothwell was intensely interested — far more in- 
terested than the solitary footman, who might 
have been, for all the interest he showed, born and 
brought up in the foundry of a daily newspaper. 


DINNER FOR TWO 


335 


“ Of course,” said Mr. Bothwell, when the foot- 
man had served coffee and left them alone, “ you 
know Lord Beeches, the proprietor of the ‘ Big 
Daily’?” 

“ Oh, quite well,” said Hannibal. 

“ What a charming man I ” 

“Very charming.” 

“ He is a good deal senior to you, I believe. 
Sir Hannibal? ” 

“ Yes, about thirty years, I fancy.” 

“ Indeed? So much as that? But then you 
came to the front so early in life, did you not. Sir 
Hannibal?” 

“ I don’t consider that I’m yet at the front, Mr. 
Bothwell.” 

“No? You surprise me! I should have 
thought, with all those papers, of which you have 
been telling me, under your thumb, and that great 
business, which you have built up, at your back, 
that you could certainly claim to be quite in the 
front rank.” 

“ Yes,” agreed Hannibal, “ but there are bet- 
ter positions than the front rank.” 

“ Oh, of course, I was simply employing a some- 
what loose figure of speech. What I really meant 
to say was that there are few men, if any, in your 
profession, who could be said to have reached a 
position higher than your own.” 

“ We mentioned one,” Hannibal reminded him, 
“ not five minutes ago.” 


336 


LORD LONDON 


“ You mean Lord Beeches? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ But, if you’ll pardon my saying so, the inter- 
ests of Lord Beeches are by no means so ramify- 
ing as your own, are they? ” 

“ No, they’re not. But the ‘ Big Daily ’ is sold 
for a penny, whereas the ‘ Little Daily ’ is sold for 
a halfpenny.” 

“ Surely a mere difference in price should not 
be allowed to determine the relative professional 
positions of two such men as yourself and Lord 
Beeches?” 

“ But the difference in price, Mr. Bothwell, is 
not the only difference between us. Lord 
Beeches takes precedence of me for a reason that 
has nothing to do with his seniority or the price 
of his paper.” 

“ I won’t pretend to misunderstand you. Sir 
Hannibal. You mean, of course, that he takes 
precedence of rank.” 

“ Exactly.” 

Mr. Bothwell smiled one of his most fascinating 
smiles. 

“ That’s a matter which will no doubt adjust 
itself in the course of years. Sir Hannibal.” 

“But how about the landlady?” Hannibal 
shot the question at him like a bullet from a cata- 
pult. 

“The landlady? I’m afraid I fail to grasp 
your meaning. Sir Hannibal.” 


DINNER FOR TWO 


337 


“ If your landlady wishes to make a change In 
her lodger, you’ll not be able to ask me to din- 
ner.” 

“ That’s quite true. But, with such good 
friends as yourself to give the lie to gossip. Sir 
Hannibal, I trust that it may be some time yet 
before my landlady requires these pleasant rooms 
for another lodger.” 

“ You have twice mentioned the word ‘ gossip,’ 
Mr. Bothwell. Might I ask if there is any par- 
ticular form of gossip going about that Is likely 
to disturb your comfort here ? ” 

“ That’s a very frank question, and I’ll answer 
it just as frankly. There’s a very awkward story 
going about, and one that Is calculated to do great 
mischief. Let us drop metaphor. It Is being 
said in certain quarters that the Government has 
In mind a measure which, if carried, would increase 
the cost of living for the poor — indeed, for ev- 
erybody in the country. I want you to contradict 
that story. Sir Hannibal.” 

“ I shall be only too pleased to contradict it.” 

“ That’s good. Thank you very much.” 

“ But, before I contradict it, I think I ought to 
warn you that the story has gone far enough to 
necessitate a very explicit contradiction. There 
must be no quibbling with words, Mr. Bothwell. 
I must either tell the readers of the ‘ Little Daily ’ 
that you intend to drop Tariff Reform, or I must 
tell them, on your authority, that the passing of 


338 


LORD LONDON 


the Tariff Reform Bill will not raise the price of 
any article of food consumed in this country. 
Now, which am I to say? ” 

Mr. Bothwell, with another of his charming 
smiles, pushed the cigarettes across the table to 
Hannibal. 

“ Personally,” he said, “ I like your very direct 
methods. Sir Hannibal, but I must point out to 
you that we’re not always able to be quite so direct 
in political matters as you are, I understand. In 
your very brilliant paper. The skein of modern 
politics has become very tangled, and one must 
approach the unraveling of It with careful and del- 
icate fingers. One might, of course, cut the Gor- 
dian knot, but one would, by that act, destroy the 
whole fabric of the situation which has been built 
up with so much care. I said that we would drop 
metaphor. Sir Hannibal, but I see that, so far 
from dropping it, I am mixing my metaphors. 
A bad old habit of mine; pray forgive me.” 

He paused, and looked at his guest as though 
expecting him to reply. Hannibal did not reply 
because he did not feel that it was his turn. He 
could see that Mr. Bothwell, despite his ease of 
manner, was a little nervous, and he knew that a 
nervous man will always go on talking as long as 
his vis-a-vis remains silent. And he was right. 

“ Pm really rather surprised,” continued Mr. 
Bothwell, “ that the friends of this Government 
should think that we would do anything to em- 


DINNER FOR TWO 


339 


barrass the working-classes. In the first place, we 
realize quite vividly that we are, to a very large 
extent, dependent upon the goodwill of the work- 
ing-classes if we wish to remain in office; that is 
a small point, but still a point that we cannot over- 
look. A far more powerful reason why we should 
not take any step that would embarrass the work- 
ing-classes is that we sympathize very keenly with 
the difficulties and disadvantages under which they 
at present labor. Speaking for myself, I would 
never for one instant lend my support to any 
measure which, so far from embarrassing the 
working-classes, did not actually tend to make their 
lives more prosperous, more comfortable, more 
secure. Of course it is quite easy to understand 
that those opposed to us are only too glad to make 
capital out of the absurd suggestion that we should 
contemplate a measure opposed to the interests 
of the working-classes; but I really do fail to 
understand. Sir Hannibal, how it is that those on 
our side who are in a postition to contradict in the 
most emphatic manner this preposterous statement 
shouldn’t do so without our having to — ” 

“ Invite them to dinner? ” suggested Hannibal, 
as Mr. Bothwell paused for a suitable word. 

“ Oh, dear, no ! ” laughed Mr. Bothwell. “ I 
would rather put it in this way, that I’m sorry to 
spoil our little dinner by dragging in this somewhat 
tiresome and unnecessary subject.” 

“ I don’t find it at all tiresome. I find it very 


340 


LORD LONDON 


interesting. I take it, then, that you intend to go 
on with Tariff Reform, but that you will pledge 
your word that the cost of living will not be 
raised? ” 

“ There again,” replied Mr. Bothwell, deli- 
cately joining the extreme tips of his delicate fin- 
gers, “ you make It very difficult for me to answer 
you. Sir Hannibal. When you talk of ‘ going on 
with Tariff Reform ’ you use an expression which, 
I am sure. Is most suitable for a newspaper, but, I 
can assure you, would be quite unsuitable in a 
political discussion. Tariff Reform, as it has been 
called for the sake of convenience, is a very wide 
subjecf, a very Interesting subject, a very great 
subject. But it is far from being the only question 
to which the Government has to give its attention, 
so that I cannot say more in reply to you at the 
moment than that the Government Is seriously 
examining the various Issues and sub-issues arising 
out of Tariff Reform, with a view to a consolida- 
tion of the Empire on practical and commercial 
lines, as well as the eventual benefit of every per- 
son in this country. Surely that is very clear and 
straightforward? ” 

It was now Hannibal’s turn to smile, and smile 
he did, straight Into the twinkling pince-nez of 
Mr. Bothwell. 

“ You’ve put the point excellently, as you say, 
Mr. Bothwell, from a politician’s point of view. 
Now let me put it from a journalist’s point of 


DINNER FOR TWO 


341 


view. You want me to contradict in my paper 
the statement that has been vigorously circulated 
by the Radical press to the effect that you are 
pledged to bring in a Bill in support of Tariff Re- 
form, which Bill, if passed, will have the definite 
effect of raising the price of food in this country. 
Now, my readers have no use at all for dialectics. 
They want to know just where they stand. They 
certainly do believe at this moment that you intend 
to bring in this Bill, and they certainly do want 
to know whether it is true that the passing of this 
Bill will mean a rise in the price of food. If it 
does mean that, there will certainly be a vacancy 
for another lodger in these delightful apartments ; 
if it does not mean that, then you may make up 
your mind to stay here a good while longer. 
Either way, I must tell them something quite defi- 
nite in my paper to-morrow morning.” 

Mr. Bothwell lit a cigarette, and smoked in 
silence for quite five minutes. Then: 

“ May I say that I am extremely glad to have 
had this opportunity of a private and uninter- 
rupted conversation with you. Sir Hannibal?” 

Hannibal bowed. 

“ I’m glad to have had it,” continued Mr. Both- 
well, “ not only because it is a very great pleasure 
to me to establish friendly relations and a thor- 
ough spirit of understanding with one wielding 
such enormous influences in this country, but also 
for the reason that I’m afraid I’ve been doing you 


342 


LORD LONDON 


an injustice in my mind. That so often happens, 
I think, unless one manages to establish human 
relations. I will admit, quite frankly. Sir Han- 
nibal, that hitherto I have not taken you very 
seriously. I’ve heard a great deal about you, and 
we have, of course, met on various occasions in a 
purely perfunctory way, but I certainly did not 
realize before this evening that your first and 
greatest care in life is the responsibility of your 
position. 

“ We were speaking just now of precedence of 
rank, and you gave me the impression that you 
felt rather hampered in your work by the fact 
that, despite the vastness of your business, and 
the almost unparalleled Influence which it gives 
you, you had not met with such full recognition 
at the hands of the Government as one or two of 
your colleagues. Well, Sir Hannibal, I think I 
can now see my way to remove this nominal but 
none the less real difference of rank.” 

Again Hannibal bowed. 

“ Let me, however, make my position in the 
matter quite clear. Sir Hannibal. When we invite 
a man to become a member of the Cabinet, we 
first of all make quite sure that we’re not admit- 
ting to our closest and most vital secrets one who 
is not heart and soul on our side. I know that 
you’ll easily grasp the significance of what I’m 
saying. Now, in a sense, for any Government to 
raise a man to the Peerage, or, rather, to put his 


DINNER FOR TWO 


343 


name forward in High Quarters for such an 
honor, is equivalent to inviting a member of the 
Government to take his place in the Cabinet,” 

“ In other words, Mr. Bothwell, you’re offering 
me a Peerage if I’ll support your Party through 
thick and thin in all my papers ? ” 

“ That’s dreadfully blunt,” replied Mr. Both- 
well, smiling, “ but I like you to express yourself 
in your own terms rather than run the risk of 
there being the least misunderstanding.” 

“ Thank you. I can honestly say that I am 
with you in the whole of your program, as I 
know it at present, with the exception of Tariff 
Reform, and I am willing to support you even on 
the question of Tariff Reform if you’ll authorize 
me to say that the passing of that Measure will not 
increase the cost of food for the people. I do 
not include luxuries; I’m speaking of the mere 
necessities of life. In plain words, may I tell 
the readers of the ‘ Little Daily ’ to-morrow morn- 
ing that there’s to be no tax on food? ” 

“ I really can see no reason why you should 
not tell them that.” 

“ But may I do it on your authority? ” 

“ Do you mean on my authority, or on the au- 
thority of the Government? Life is uncertain. Sir 
Hannibal, and I shouldn’t feel justified in com- 
mitting any Government of the future to any defi- 
nite statement.” 

“ I shall be content if you’ll allow me to say. 


344 


LORD LONDON 


without contradiction, that you, personally, will 
never consent to any increase in the cost of living 
for the poor.” 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Bothwell, slowly and deliber- 
ately, “ you may say that.” 

Hannibal rose. There was no sign on his face 
of the triumph that he was feeling. He did not 
want to shout, “ I have won! ” in Mr. Bothwell’s 
face, but he knew that he had won, and he knew 
that Mr. Bothwell must also know it. 

Mr. Bothwell rang the bell. Then, as a serv- 
ant entered, the two men shook hands, wished each 
other goodnight, and Hannibal drove along the 
Embankment to the office of the “ Little Daily.” 

It was exactly ten o’clock when Mr. Radford 
heard Hannibal’s voice through the telephone ask- 
ing him to go down to his room. Mr. Radford 
saw at a glance that the Chief had brought off 
another “ scoop ” for the paper. 

“ No tax on food,” said Hannibal, the very 
moment that Mr. Radford entered. 

“ Good.” 

“ On the highest authority.” 

“ Right. Would you like to see the leader? ” 

“ Yes. Send it down in manuscript as soon as 
it’s written.” 

“ It is written.” 

“What?” 

“ It is written.” 


DINNER FOR TWO 


345 


“ On those lines ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“How did you guess?” 

Radford laughed happily. “ I didn’t guess. I 
knew.” 

“ You know too much, Radford. Send up for 
the leader. In the meantime, get the news written 
up. Double-column headings, and plenty of 
them. I want to see the final proofs before I 
leave the office.” 

“ Very good.” 

Mr. Radford advanced a step and held out his 
hand. Hannibal grasped it. Then, without an- 
other word, the editor went upstairs with a light 
foot and a leaping heart. He had a piece of news 
for England which was worth the telling. j 


XIX 


ROUND THE CORNER INTO ADAMS STREET 

I T was after midnight when Hannibal finally 
left the office and told his man to drive home. 
They went along the Embankment, and Han- 
nibal thought of the nights when he used to pace 
up and down by the river, trying to get the idea 
that should make the success of “ You and 1.” 
He thought of Mr. Brandon, and wondered 
whether that queer creature was still in the land 
of the living, or whether he had finally decided 
that the mere task of breathing was too near akin 
to slavery to be longer endured by a man of free 
and independent spirit. 

As they neared Charing Cross, a sudden fancy 
came to him. Taking up the speaking-tube, he 
directed the driver to go down Villiers Street and 
take the first turn to the left. The chauffeur was 
not in the least surprised; he was quite accustomed 
to strange, and sudden, and inexplicable orders 
when Hannibal was in the brougham. 

At the top of York Buildings, Hannibal stopped 
the brougham, and, telling his man to wait, strolled 
down the familiar cul-de-sac. It was all just as 
he had known it twenty years ago, save that some 
346 


ROUND THE CORNER 


347 


houses at the bottom on the left-hand side had 
been pulled down, and red-brick offices built in 
their place. The house in which he had lived 
with Sheila, in which they had passed their honey- 
moon, from which the first numbers of “ You and 
I ” had been sent to the printer, to which Mr. 
Hamm used to come and sit very quietly in the 
corner or help to cook the sausages, and in which 
Mr. Brandon, in a flash of drunken genius, had 
suddenly hit upon the line for the bill that Han- 
nibal so badly wanted, was just the same as ever. 
There was a light on the top floor, and Hannibal 
had an impulse to climb the stairs and make the 
acquaintance of the inmates. Would he find a 
youthful journalist and his still more youthful wife 
surrounded by letters, and manuscripts, and proof- 
sheets? If he did, it would be a glorious thing, 
and quite in accordance with his mood of the mo- 
ment, to help them over their difficulties and put 
them on the right road to success, as he so easily 
could. 

While he was still looking up, a girl leaned from 
the open window and looked down into the street. 
She said something in a soft voice, and a man 
joined her and put his arm about her shoul- 
ders. . . . 

Hannibal moved away. After all, what right 
had he to intrude upon them? Whatever their 
vocation in life, it was better that they should 
work out their own success for themselves. They 


348 


LORD LONDON 


did not want a stranger, however rich and power- 
ful, to intrude his advice or even his money upon 
them. If the man came to him, as he once went 
to Mr. Hamm, that would be another matter. As 
it was, he felt himself a stranger and an interloper 
in York Buildings, and there was already a crowd 
of loafers round his electric brougham that 
was waiting outside the public-house in John 
Street. 

“ You can’t go back. Drew,” said Hannibal to 
the chauffeur. 

“ Beg pardon, sir? ” 

“ I say you can’t go back. You must go for- 
ward.” 

“ Very good, sir. I can easily pull up the hill 
and get to the Strand through Adam Street.” 

“ All right,” said Hannibal, and away they went. 
That was the very last visit he ever paid to York 
Buildings. He never tried, being an exceedingly 
astute person, to go back. 

He remembered his promise to Sheila, of 
course, and went straight to her room. She was 
in bed, reading the latest volume of a young poet 
in whose talent she was interested. 

“ Well,” she said, “ have you been all this time 
at the office? ” 

“ Not quite. I’ve just come from a place you 
know very well.” 

“ What place is it? ” 

“ York Buildings.” 


ROUND THE CORNER 


349 

“ What on earth have you been doing down 
there?” 

“ I just went to have a look at It.” 

“Why to-night In particular?” 

“ Because we’ve reached another big milestone 
to-night.” 

“ Something has happened — something to do 
with Bothwell. Tell me at once what It Is! ” 

“ We had a very charming little dinner, and It 
wasn’t at all dull.” 

“ What did he want to see you about? ” 

“ He wanted to find out whether I realized the 
responsibility of my position.” 

“ Bothwell’s a silly old duffer ! I could have 
told him that.” 

“ Why, do you think I do? ” 

“ I know you do. I know that you would never 
use your Influence except for the benefit of the 
country. That’s why I’m glad that you’ve stood 
out against this wretched Tariff Reform. Did 
Bothwell think he could talk you over? ” 

“ Bothwell Is a Party man, and he used one of 
the weapons of his Party. I suppose he tried to 
bribe me.” 

“Bribe you? How could he bribe you? 
What could he give you that you haven’t got? ” 

“ It had occurred to him that you, my dear, 
might not like going Into dinner after the peer- 
esses.” 

Sheila sat up. “ You don’t mean to say, Han, 


350 


LORD LONDON 


that he was willing to make you a peer right off ? ” 

“ Yes, I do.” 

“ Good gracious ! And you’re only forty 1 
What on earth did he want you to do for it? ” 

“ Merely give my support to Tariff Reform.” 

“ Of course you refused! ” 

“ No, I didn’t.” 

“ You gave way? ” 

“Not precisely. I struck a bargain with him. 
I made him give me his word that he, personally, 
would not countenance the Measure, or any 
Measure, if it meant raising the price of the peo- 
ple’s food.” 

“ Did he agree to that? ” 

“ Yes. We’re publishing it to-morrow. It’ll 
be known in Fleet Street in a couple of hours from 
now.” 

“ But that’s a triumph, Han! Why, that’s the 
very thing you’ve been fighting for the whole 
time ! So you’ve got that and the peerage as well ! 
You really are a wonder! ” 

“ Not to you, surely? ” 

“ Yes, even to me sometimes. ... Of course 
they’ll say all sorts of nasty things.” 

“ Oh, yes, they’ll say I’ve been bought. That’s 
a certainty. But we’ve learned long since not to 
care what they say, haven’t we, dear? ” 

“ Yes,” said Sheila. “ We’ve learned that, and 
we’ve learned a great many other things since we 
started together twenty years ago in York Build- 


ROUND THE CORNER 


351 


ings. Sometimes I wish we could unlearn it all 
and go back to the simple children that we were 
then.” 

“ I’m not sure that I was so very simple even 
then. And, anyhow, you can’t go back, as I told 
Drew a little while ago. He wasn’t at all sur- 
prised. He said he could easily pull up the hill 
and get to the Strand by way of Adam Street. 
If you think it out, you’ll see that Drew has pretty 
well summed up the whole of life in those few 
words. We all have to pull up the hill and make 
for the Strand by way of Adam Street.” 

“ At any rate, Han, you’re well up the hill.” 

“ Yes, but I’m only at the beginning of Adam 
Street. Much may happen before I get to the 
Strand! ” 


THE END 
























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